


Adventures in the Dark

by inabroomcloset



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: And Finn Collins/Assholishness, College AU, Emori/Murphy, Harper/Monroe - Freeform, Jasper/Maya - Freeform, Lincoln/Octavia - Freeform, Miller/Monty - Freeform, Multi, Slow Burn, Wells/Raven - Freeform, also featuring:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabroomcloset/pseuds/inabroomcloset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wells starts at Arkadia College, much to the disappointment of his father, Clarke moves into a close-by apartment just to help him settle in. She was ready for the late-night coffee runs, the sleep-deprived conversations and sheer sense of helplessness. What she didn't expect was his handsome yet brooding roommate whose secrets were as dark as his attitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is probably going to be complete mess of a story, but enjoy it anyway. Slow burn to the max.

Clarke was surprised by how little Wells was taking with him. For someone who refused to throw anything out, including paintings she’d done for him when she was five and thought that mixing all the colours together would make a rainbow (instead of a poop-coloured mess), three boxes of belongings and two bags of clothes was not even an eighth of everything he owned, and yet he said it was all he needed for college. 

“I can always drive home and get whatever I need.” He told her as they drove, one hand on his steering wheel, the other hanging out the window. “It’s not like I’m going that far.”

She smiled at him, before pulling out her phone to check if they were going the right way. (They weren’t.)

He was determined to carry everything in one trip, and she laughed as he shuffled awkwardly around Arkadia Campus with two boxes stacked in front of his face.

“I think this is it.” He muttered and fumbled for the key, the boxes held between his body and the wall. 

Clarke read the piece of paper taped to the door. “Wells Jaha…” She snickered and kicked him lightly. He kicked her back, still trying to find the key. “Bellamy Blake. Huh.” 

“What?” He pulled the key out of his jacket pocket, and grinned to himself, a chocolate wrapper falling to the floor as he did. 

“Nothing, it’s just – Bellamy, I like that name.” 

Wells rolled his eyes and pushed the door open, revealing a pretty standard college dorm room. Two single beds, no sheets, two unstable looking desks, dressers with missing handles, ugly, stained curtains, equally stained carpet, and the cream paint on the walls destroyed from years of pushpins and blu-tack and bored college students. 

Both beds were empty. 

“Guess your ‘Bellamys’ not here yet.” Wells said, dropping the two boxes on the floor beside one of them. 

She placed her box gently on top of the others. “Guess not.”

Slowly, they unpacked his stuff, and while Wells protested against it, Clarke shoved his clothes into the dresser without folding them. He’d only brought three decorations with him; pictures in frames, one of his mother holding him just after he was born (the only picture of the two of them), one of the Jahas and (all) the Griffins together at a Christmas dinner, and one of him and Clarke. 

She loved the photo, and had one in a matching fame that lived beside her bed. In it, her face was half-buried in Wells’ chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, both of them laughing like hyenas, complete with happy tears and too much teeth. 

The first two, he placed on the desk, but the one of the two of them, he hung on the wall, on a hook that someone had left behind. 

“Clarkey.” He cooed, gesturing to the bed sheets. Sighing, she pulled on one end, stretching it over the mattress. He pulled the other end, tucked it in, and then smoothed it out. 

With a smile, they both collapsed on the bed. “Well,” She said, turning to look at him. “Guess you’re officially moved in. Officially in college.” 

He sniffed, reaching up to scratch his nose. “Guess so.” 

“What?” She poked him. He flicked her hand away, but she persisted in her poking. “What, what, what, what, what?” 

“I just thought it would feel different.” He shifted and laid himself across her, his head resting on her lap. Her hands automatically went to stroke his forehead, tracing lines across his perfect skin. Sunlight from between the curtains rested on his face, and he flung an arm over his eyes to block it out. 

“Different how?” 

“Different as in more accomplished.” He breathed in deeply. “I thought that finally getting away from my dad, doing something on my own, not using his money, I thought it’d feel better than this.” 

She knew exactly how he felt, but that wasn’t the comfort he needed in that moment. Instead, she said, “Just give it time. Classes haven’t even stated yet.” 

They stayed there, in the quiet, for god knows how long, until the sound of someone sliding a key into the lock woke them from the peace. 

The door flew open just as Wells was sitting up. A man who was the epitome of ‘tall, dark and handsome’ stomped in, a worn-out looking bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Uh…” Wells glanced at Clarke, then back to the man. “Hi.” 

The man dropped his bag. “I’m Bellamy. Bellamy Blake.” 

Wells winked at Clarke, before standing from the bed and holding out a hand. “Wells Jaha.” 

They shook firmly, and then Bellamys eyes flicked over to Clarke, who was still sprawled on the bed. Wells turned to look at her. “Ah. This is Clarke.” 

She jumped up and stood beside Wells. He twisted his arm around her waist as she stuck her hand towards Bellamy. He shook it just as confidently as he had with Wells, before scanning her up and down in a less than subtle once-over. 

“Nice to meet you.” He said, before turning back towards the door. 

“Where you going?” Wells asked.

He glanced back at them. “To get the rest of my shit.”

“You want help?”

“Nope.” The door slammed shut behind him. 

Wells breathed deeply and turned to Clarke. She raised her eyebrows at him, before letting out a laugh. “Well, he was charming.”


	2. Anything for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, some clarification; I'm in high school and have no idea how American college works, Clarke and Wells are 19, and Bellamy is 22 (adjusted the age difference just a little) and the legal drinking age is 18.

He’d been at college for a full week before she decided to buy the apartment. 

Mainly because, in that short amount of time, she spent over $150 on petrol, driving back and forth from her house to the college campus every time he called needing help with something. Her mom consistently complained about her leaving at all hours of the night (and morning) and sometimes, it felt as if she spent more time in the car than actually with Wells. 

The apartment was nice enough, with two decent sized bedrooms, a recently renovated kitchen and bathroom, and smooth walls, perfect for painting on. And, most importantly, it was five minutes from the college campus. (Also, it was around the corner from a really good bar.)

“You don’t have to do this for my sake, Clarke.” Wells told her over the phone, when she sent him a picture of the apartment. “I’ll stop asking you to visit every night, I promise.” 

She giggled. “I’m not just doing it for you. I need to get out of that house. There’s just too much of…” She trailed off, pushing back the memories. “Too much everything.”

“I get that.” She could practically see the look on his face, feel his hand gripping her arm the comforting way it always did. “I-”

There was a sound on the other end of the phone, something that interrupted him, someone else’s voice. 

“No, Bellamy. How many times have I told you she’s not my girlfriend?” 

Another muffled sound. 

“Oh, piss off.” 

Clarke paced around the apartment, toeing a dent in the wood panelling on the floor. Knowing herself, that small dent would become her coping mechanism, her go-to spot whenever she was annoyed. 

“Sorry.” He muttered. 

“Roommate still being an ass?”

She shifted, placing the phone between her shoulder and her ear. Without concentrating, she began braiding her own hair. She heard the sound of a door banging shut.

“Something like that.” He sighed. “I’m trying to be nice, but it’s like he’s incapable of showing even the slightest amount of civility.”

“Maybe he’s just stressed about college. That whole adjustment thing.”

“Nah, you kidding? This guys a genius.” There was a tinge of jealousy in Wells’ voice. He’d always had trouble with concentrating, always had to put in the extra effort at school. Getting into college was a big deal for him, and he was determined to ace every subject, but he was already finding it difficult. “He reads non-stop and can write a full length essay in, like, twenty minutes. And, sometimes, when he talks, to himself, not to me, because he never talks to me by choice, he just sits there muttering to himself, and he just switches languages. Without noticing! And not just between two languages, but like, four! It’s insane!”

She chuckled, letting go of her hair to grab the phone again. “Well, you said he’s a little older than you. He’s just had more time to learn.” 

“Yeah.” He sounded a little deflated. “I guess. But three years is not that much of a difference.” 

“It’s still a difference Wells. Cut yourself some slack.” 

“Yeah.” He repeated. 

She sighed. “What have you got right now?”

“Uh, nothing. I was going to hit the library and finishing writing the essay for my lit class.”

“I’ll come over.”

“No, it’s f-”

“I’ll help you write the essay.”

Silence for three seconds. Four, five, six –

“Okay. But you have to bring me chocolate.”

She grinned. “Peanut butter cups?”

“Of course.”

Wells seemed stunned when she arrived so quickly, forgetting that she was only five minutes away. When that clicked, he smiled. 

“Okay, I have to admit, having you here quicker is nice.” He said from where he sat on his bed, a textbook open on his lap.  
She threw the peanut butter cups at him, hitting him in the chest. 

“Thanks.” He ripped the packet open and stuffed one in his mouth. “Nwcnyuhefmewifvis-”

“Stop.” She sat down beside him and he rolled his eyes, but swallowed before continuing. 

“Now, can you help me with this bloody essay?” He pointed at a section of the textbook, and then at his notebook, which was a mess of scribbled notes, scratched out words and several different highlighter colours. 

“Sure.” She pulled the textbook into her own lap and began examining the words. She could feel Wells’ gaze on the side of her head, but ignored it, trying to soak in the information. “Okay, so, it sounds like-”

She turned and looked at him, but his face was blank, his eyes looking at her, but not really looking at her. “Wells?”

He shook his head. “Hm?”

“You drifted.” She raised her eyebrows. “And there’s chocolate on your face.” With one finger, she poked the spot.

He wiped desperately at his cheek, as she giggled. 

“Stop laughing Griffin.” He snarked, but smiled back anyway. 

She turned back to the textbook, but before she could try to explain it in a Wells would understand, there was a knock at the door.

“Bellamy?” She asked Wells.

“Nah, he wouldn’t knock.” 

She glanced to Bellamys half of the room as Wells went to the door. It was neat, if a little bare. The sheets looked new, plain grey, and all of his books, school and fiction, were stacked in neat piles on the desk. There was only one photograph, of a beautiful girl standing in the arms of an equally beautiful woman. The two looked similar enough that Clarke guessed they were mother and daughter, probably Bellamys mom and sister. And that was all she could tell. No clothes lying on the floor, nothing out of place, nothing giving any hints as to the type of person he was. 

“Oh. Hey Finn.” Wells stepped aside, letting someone in. She looked up from the textbook. 

She decided, in that moment, that she was in love with his hair. She didn’t even bother to look at the rest of him. 

“You must be Clarke.” He said, stepping towards her. “Wells never shuts up about you.”

“Ha.” She jumped up. “Yeah, hi.”

“I’m Finn.” He smiled lazily, looking through his eyelashes at her. She smiled back, slowly. 

Wells stood to the side, watching, his arms crossed. “You need something, Collins?”

Finn turned to Wells. “Yeah, do you still have my notebook? The one I lent you?”

“Oh!” Wells jumped towards his desk and began pushing things around, until he came upon a green book with dark patterns drawn by hand on the front. “Here it is. Thanks.”

“No problem, man.” Finn took the notebook and held it to his chest. He bit his lip, eyes turning back to Clarke. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” Wells said, and opened the door wider. 

His gaze remained on her until he was out of the room and the door closed in his face.


	3. Complete Oblivion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so now there is a semblance of Bellarkeishness. :)

A first date after knowing each other for only a day was rushed, Wells told her.

She waved him off and asked him what colour dress she should wear.

“Navy blue.” He said, sitting on her couch, with four textbooks spread around him. There was definitely a certain amount of obsession involved in his constant study, along with the anxiety and need to do better. She encouraged him as best she could, trying to reassure him that as long as he was happy with himself, nothing else mattered. The words didn’t seem to sink in. “Navy blue brings out your eyes.”

She scurried back into her room, only to emerge a moment later with three different dresses slung over her arm. “Which one?” 

Without even lifting his eyes, he replied, “The one with the cross-over back. It’s the only one you like. The strapless one annoys the crap out of you every time you wear it, which you always forget and then end up complaining the whole night, and the other one doesn’t fit you anymore, but you refuse to get rid of it.” 

She blinked at him three times. “Why have you memorised my wardrobe, Wells? And how?”

“I know everything about you, Clarke.” He kept flicking through his textbook. 

A smile ghosted its way across her face and she went back to her room to try it on. 

It fit. Perfectly. 

Staring at herself in the mirror, she smoothed it down, before her hands drifted up to her limp hair. She’d always been terrible at doing her own hair. Her school years had consisted of ponytails and ugly-messy buns. On days where she showed up wearing it out and wild, Zoe would drag her aside and braid it into something amazing in a matter of minutes. She tried to teach Clarke how to do it for herself, but it always ended with large knots and someone yelling. 

“Hey Wells?” She skipped out of the room, twirling the dress around her legs. 

“Hm?” 

“What should I do with my hair?” 

He looked up and sighed. “I dunno. Do that twisty thing, maybe?” Lifting his wrist, he checked the time. “But do it fast, cos you said you’d meet Finn at the dorm in ten minutes.”

Finn didn’t own a car. Something about not harming the environment and trying to save money. So, their date was to start at Wells’ room, where he’d pick her up and they’d walk to a close-by restaurant, then “do whatever felt natural”, he told her. She hadn’t told him she lived five minutes from the campus, and that it’d be just as easy for him to pick her up from there. 

“Shit.” She said, looking at the clock on her wall and realised he was right. 

They made it to the dorm with two minutes to spare, but Finn was nowhere to be seen. 

Bellamy, however, was. 

Seated at his desk, with a black pen hanging out of his mouth, and a pair of square glasses sitting on his nose, he didn’t even react when they entered the room. 

She stared at his back for a moment before perching on Wells’ bed. 

“You think you can just try and braid it? Or plait it even?” She asked, looking at her best friend hopefully. “You used to practice with Harper.”

He sighed and gestured for her to sit on the floor between his legs. She complied. Gently, he ran his fingers through her golden waves, disentangling them, then tried to braid it the way he’d been taught in primary school. 

It didn’t go too well. 

Minutes ticked by, and Finn didn’t show up, so Wells kept trying different ways, but his fingers didn’t seem to be able to hold her hair in place the right way. 

“Ow!” She squeaked for the tenth time, as he pulled a little too hard. 

“Sorry.” He muttered, feeling as useless as he always did. 

There was a deep sigh from across the room, and then the sound of a pen dropping on a table. “For fucks sake.” Bellamy swivelled around in his chair and glared at the two of them. “It’s not that bloody hard.” 

He sauntered towards them and nudged Wells aside, planting himself behind Clarke. She stiffened as his legs brushed her back, but then his fingers were grazing her scalp in a way so gentle, it had to be practised. 

Wells watched in jealous awe as Bellamy manipulated her hair into a soft braid that trailed down from one side of her head to over her left shoulder, in less than a minute. 

Then, with the same abruptness with which he’d joined them, he stood and marched back to his desk, throwing himself down in his chair. 

“Thanks.” Clarke said, almost as a question, as she felt the braid. Bellamy grunted in return. She looked to Wells, raising her eyebrows. He shrugged. 

“It looks good.” He mouthed.

She nodded in return, and there was a knock at the door. Wells jumped up before she could, and opened it. 

“You’re late.” He said accusingly. 

“Is she still-”

“I’m right here.” Clarke stepped up to the door and smiled. 

Finn smiled back. “Hi.” 

Wells glanced to Clarke, who gave him a look that told him it was okay. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and whispered “have fun” against her skin. 

She stepped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her. “Hi.”

“Sorry for being…twenty-seven minutes late.” He extended an arm towards her. “Shall we?” She twisted her arm through his and they walked down the hall, away from Wells’ room. 

Wells breathed deeply through his nose, his back against the closed door. Bellamy glanced over his shoulder, and for the first time, he felt something other than contempt for the other boy.

“You alright?” Bellamy asked softly after a few seconds of silence. Wells clenched his jaw, but didn’t answer, so Bellamy continued. “You can be as nice as possible, but you can’t protect her from what she wants. You gotta let her make her own decisions.”

Wells looked to Bellamy. “Even if it gets her hurt?” 

“Especially then.” Bellamy turned back to his work. “Because you can always be there to fix her up afterwards.”


	4. The Old and the New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this turned into a very long mess. Umm, any feedback from you guys would be great. :)

At first, she thought the sound was a part of her dream. 

Clarke was used to strange dreams, and strange noises within those dreams. 

But then it got louder and tugged at her sleep in that way that wind tugs at your perfect ponytail until it is a fuzzy mess. 

She came into consciousness, annoyed and unable to open her eyes. Tiredly, she waved her hand around, gesturing for the sound to stop. When she finally realised that sounds can’t see and that it was actually her phone ringing, she reached towards her bedside table. 

The light of her phone was so bright it burned her eyes and she could hardly make out the name. 

“Wells?” She asked, her voice gravelly. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “I’m sorry.” 

Shaking herself from sleep, she sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

There was a string of unintelligible words, followed by a soft ‘ouch’.

“Wells? Are you okay?”

“I called Nate, but he didn’t answer and I didn’t want to worry you, so I thought I should go to his place, but I don’t think I’m going the right way.”

“Oh my god.” She breathed and jumped out of bed, completely awake now. As quickly as she could, she jammed shoes on her feet and grabbed her jacket and car keys. “Where are you?”

Silence, then, “I don’t know.”

“Are there any street signs?”

“It’s too dark.”

“Don’t move, okay?” Nothing. “Wells?”

“Yeah?”

She flung open her apartment door and ran out, taking the stairs two at a time, even though her legs were ridiculously short and taking one stair at a time was enough of a struggle. “I want you to stay exactly where you are. Okay?”

“Okay.” He said. She could hear him nodding, his skin brushing against the receiver. “I can do that.”

“Good.” In her two weeks of living in the apartment, she’d only spoken to one neighbour. When she reached his door, she didn’t even think about the fact that it was two in the morning and began banging on it as loud as she could. Wells was muttering something about his dad when the door opened. 

“Clarke?” Lincoln asked, his angry look slipping into one of confusion. 

“I’m sorry.” She said, her hand over the speaker of her phone. “I need to borrow your phone. I don’t have a landline installed yet, but I need to call someone.”

He stepped to the side, letting her in. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” She grabbed his home phone and dialled a number. Wells was still slurring away to himself when Nathan picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Nate, it’s Clarke.”

Lincoln stood by his front door, eyebrows raised. 

“Clarke, what’s going on? Is-”

She cut him off. “It’s Wells. Are you at work?”

“Is he okay?” Stress had taken of Nathans tone, and Clarke knew why. The two boys had been close from the day Wells had appeared at the dinner meant for the Griffin family and the Miller family to get to know each other, and declared that if Clarke was making friends with another boy, then he had to be friends with him too. 

“I don’t know, but please tell me you’re at work.”

“I am.” 

“I need you to trace his phone.”

Lincoln stepped towards her and placed a hand on her arm. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story.” She listened to her own phone for a second. “Wells, are you still in the same spot?”

“Yes Clarke.” He said. “You told me not to move, so I’m not moving.”

“Good.” She turned back to Lincolns phone. “You doing it Nate?”

“Yeah, but it’ll take a sec.” There was a heavy silence. “It happened again?” 

Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back as soon as they appeared. “Yeah.”

“I thought he was handling this.”

“So did I.” 

“Got it.” He named an address and made her promise to call him as soon as Wells was safe. 

“Thank you.” She handed Lincoln back his phone and turned towards his door.

“Wait.” He dropped his phone onto his couch and picked a shirt up off the floor. It was only then that she realised he wasn’t wearing one. “I’ll come with you.”

“Oh, no it’s fine-”

“I’ll come with you. You can explain what’s happening on the way.”

She sighed and gave in, knowing the support would be helpful, before trekking down to the garage. 

“Wells is the one who helped you move in?”

“Yeah.” She pulled her car around another corner, her phone sitting on Lincolns lap, with Wells still on the line, babbling away. 

Lincoln nodded, glancing sideways at her, before looking to the road. “Turn left here.” He’d lived in the area longer than her and knew exactly where Wells was and how to get there. “So… he’s drunk?”

She shook her head, her foot pressing a little harder on the accelerator. “Yes. Partly. But, not just drunk. He – it’s almost like he’s sleepwalking. But it only happens when he drinks.”

He nodded again, before gesturing again with his hand. “Down here.”

She turned again and saw him. Sitting cross-legged on the pavement, his back against a wall, his phone pressed to his ear.

Taking a deep breath in, she pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Wells.” She jumped out of the car and took a careful step towards him.

He looked up and smiled. “Hi Clarke.” 

She took another step. “Why don’t you come get in the car?”

“But you told me to not move.”

“I know.” She nodded, before knelling in front of him. “But now I think it’s time to go home.”

“I don’t wanna go home.” He shook his head determinedly. “I’m not going home.”

“To my place.” She placed a hand on his knee. “Let’s go to my place, okay?”

He looked at her for a minute, as if contemplating his choices, before letting a breath out through his nose. “Okay. But I get to ride shotgun.” 

“Okay.” She helped him to his feet and walked him slowly around to the passenger door. “He wants to ride in the front.” She told Lincoln apologetically. He smiled softly and climbed out, before sliding into the back seat. 

Wells sat down and she helped him do up his seatbelt before jogging back around to the drivers side and starting the car up. 

As it turned out, she did need Lincolns help, because by the time they arrived, Wells was pretty out of it and she couldn’t get him up the stairs to her flat. 

It was almost three by the time she called Nate back to let him know Wells was safely sleeping in her bed. 

The next day, when she woke up, his arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, his face buried in her hair. 

She tried to slide out of his embrace without waking him. It didn’t work.

He blinked stickily and looked at her. “Oh shit.”

She smiled sympathetically. “It’s okay.”

“No – shit. I – I thought I called Nate.” He sat up, disentangling himself from her.

“You did. Then you called me.”

“Oh.”

He rested against the wall behind her bed, looking so defeated that she reached up and traced a soft line down from the top of his forehead to the tip of his nose. “Movie day?”

He smiled and nodded. “Sounds good.”

He showered and changed into the clothes she’d insisted he leave at her place. The look on her face when he asked for them was nothing short of victorious. 

She set the movie up and moved into the kitchen to make popcorn. 

When she walked back into the living room, carrying the bowl of popcorn, she stopped dead. A half-smile inched its way onto her face and she tried not to laugh out loud. 

“What are you doing?”

Wells was lying face-down on the floor, his arms splayed out to the side.

When he didn’t respond, she put the popcorn on a coffee table and sauntered over to him. With her foot, she poked him gently in the ribs. “Wellsssss.”

He grunted, pushing her foot away. She pushed back.

“Wellsyy.” She kept prodding him and he shifted, shuffling awkwardly to the side. 

“Get your damn foot away from me you demon woman.” He mumbled into the carpeted floor. 

“Demon woman?” Clarke asked, giggling, and pressed a little harder. 

He grumbled and lifted his head the slightest fraction to look at her as he grabbed her ankle. She squealed as he pulled it out from under her, and she toppled forward, landing on his back. 

“Ow.” He groaned, her ankle still in his grasp. She began to laugh and rolled off his back onto the floor beside him. He flipped himself over and turned his head to look at her in the eye. Her hair was spread all around her, resting in tangled knots across her forehead, and over her throat, brushing against her shoulders as she huffed out happy, breathy laughs. 

The sound and the look on her face was enough to make him smile, despite the week he’d been having. 

“Seriously, though.” She said, turning to him, a blush resting on her cheeks. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” His smile dropped, and he moved to stand up. 

She grabbed his arm gently.

“Wells.” Her eyes could see through him, and without an answer, she knew what he was thinking. “Did your dad call?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He said, standing up, and then offering his hand to her. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, and then he threw himself down on the couch.

“It does.” She stepped into his line of sight. “If he-”

“Can we just watch the damn movie?” He pleaded. “I need a break from reality.” 

She looked at him for a second, at the sadness in his eyes and grabbed the bowl of popcorn. She sat beside him and turned the TV on. He stuck his hand in the bowl and shovelled some into his mouth, a hard expression still dominating his features.

Less than five minutes into the action, a phone began to ring. 

“Bloody hell.” Wells jumped up and ran to her room, where his dirty clothes were heaped on the floor, his phone still in the pocket of his jeans. He rummaged through them roughly, for more than a minute, but when he pulled his phone out, it was still ringing. He glanced at the screen before bringing it to his ear. “Bellamy. What? No, I’m with Clarke.” He sauntered back into the living room.

Clarke paused the movie and shifted, tucking her legs beneath her. She raised her eyebrows at him, asking what was happening. 

“You what?” Wells turned to her, shaking his head, annoyed. “Seriously? Is-” Something cut him off here and he blinked a few times. “Oh.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Fine. Okay, just give me a couple minutes.”

He hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket. “I’ve gotta go, I’ll be back in a few.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Bellamy went to see his sister and left his keys at her house, which is like, an hour away, and he can’t get back into the room.”

“And he wants you to let him in?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll drive you.” She stood up.

“No, it’s okay, I can walk. You did enough last night.”

“Wells, you’re my best friend. It’s not like there’s some limit to how much I can do for you. And if I want to drive you to your college, I’m gonna drive you to your college.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Thank you.” 

When they arrived, Bellamy was sitting on the floor outside the dorm room with a half dejected, half annoyed look on his face.

“Hey.” Wells said when they were in earshot. Bellamy jumped up and gave them what he probably thought was a smile. 

“Hi. Thank you for this.”

“It’s no problem.” Wells pulled his keys out and unlocked the door. Bellamy made his way inside, throwing his small bag onto the bed. 

Clarke followed them both in.

Bellamy sat at his desk, then looked to the two of them. “You don’t have to stick around, I’m not planning on leaving, so I don’t need the key anymore.”

Wells looked at Clarke, then to his desk, which was covered in loose papers and textbooks stuck full of post-it notes. “I should probably stay. Get some work done.” He said tiredly. 

“Okay.” Clarke pulled off her jacket and perched on his bed. 

“You don’t have to stay. Go enjoy the movie.”

She flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’d rather stay here and watch you study than go home and do nothing by myself.”

He shook his head, before settling in at his desk. Bellamy studied them both curiously for a moment before turning back to his work.


	5. Tagalog and Jerk-Wads

“ANO YUN INIISIP MO?!” 

The shouting was so loud, Clarke and Wells heard it from halfway down the hall. And although she’d never admit it to Wells, she instantly knew it was Bellamy. Despite only having heard him talk a few times, his voice was ingrained in her memory, as one of the deepest, most pleasant sounds she’d ever heard.

“That’s Bellamy.” Wells sighed. 

“Oh?” Clarke turned to him with as much fake surprise as she could muster. He didn’t seem to notice.

They kept walking towards the room and Wells shrugged. “I hear him speak that language all the time, but haven’t asked him what it is. I keep meaning to, but every time he uses it, it sounds personal.” They reached the door when a loud thump sounded from inside the room. Wells looked to Clarke, hesitating, before opening the door.

“Matino ka talaga, no?” 

Bellamy was standing in the middle of the room, shirtless, his hair sticking in all different, curly directions. When he heard them come in, he spun around, eyes wild. His phone was pressed to his ear and his free arm was waving in the air. A book was lying open on the floor, pages creased. 

Wells raised a hand in hello, and Clarke offered him a half-smile. In response, his clenched his jaw and turned away. 

In a way that was almost tip-toeing, she made her way to Wells’ bed and sat on the very edge, her feet resting lightly against the floor. 

Wells sat beside her, and together, they watched Bellamys back as he ranted in the language they didn’t understand. Not that either of them had a problem with it. He had a very attractive back. 

They didn’t realise how creepy the simultaneous staring probably seemed until Bellamy threw his phone on his bed and turned back to them. Wells twitched, bouncing partly off the bed, and lunged for the nearest textbook. Clarke didn’t bother moving. 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at them both. Wells stared intently at his textbook, which was open to the contents page. Unable to control herself, Clarke raised one back. Bellamy rolled his eyes before speaking. “Sorry.”

Wells glanced up to meet Bellamy’s eyes. Clarke glanced down at Bellamy’s tight sweatpants.

“It’s all good.” Wells said. “This is your space. Where else can I expect you to go to make personal phone calls?”

“It’s your space, too.” He replied, frowning softly at Clarke, before picking a shirt up off the floor and pulling it over his head. “And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or something.”

“It’s fine.” 

“Sorry, can I butt into this lame version of ‘guy bonding’?” Clarke said, nudging Wells with her elbow.

“Uh, sure.” 

“What language was that? And who were you talking to? And what were you talking about? Because you sounded like you wanted to rip their hair out and turn it into a rope to strangle them with.” 

Bellamy blinked at her, his freckles squishing together as his nose crinkled.

“Clarke.” Wells hissed. 

“What?” She leaned back, lying sideways on the bed, her hand under her chin. “I’m curious.”

“Yeah, and there’s a reason they say curiosity killed the cat.” 

“Everyone seems to forget that there’s a bloody second half to that saying and they just use it when they’re not bothered to come up with good answers.” She looked at him through her eyelashes, his fingers still holding the textbook open on the contents page. 

“Satisfaction brought it back.” Bellamy muttered. 

“Hm?” Wells looked to his roommate. 

“Oh, I was just saying, the second half of the proverb, ‘Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back’.” 

Clarke grinned and gestured to Bellamy proudly. “See? There it is. And now Bellamy, unless you want your roommates best friend to die of unsatisfied curiosity, you better answer.” Wells shook his head and mouthed a sorry to Bellamy. The corner of his mouth lifted in what Clarke could’ve sworn was almost a smile.

“Uh, it’s Tagalog. From the Philippines.” He told her, dropping onto the floor, his back resting against his bed. “My dad was Filo, and his English was terrible, so it was the only language he spoke to me in. My mum liked it, I guess, even if she had no idea what he was saying half of the time.” 

“Your mum never learnt the language?” 

He shrugged. “She could understand it, sometimes, but never learnt to speak it. And he only stuck around for a couple of years, so she didn’t get much time to practise anyway.”

“Oh.” Clarke nodded, pocketing that piece of information to ask about on a later date. “So, who were you talking to?”

“My little sister.” He reached up and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “She’s always been rebellious, but I seriously can’t get her to listen to anything at the moment.”

“What’s she doing?” 

He sighed and stood to his feet. He took a step, that she thought was towards the door, but really, he was reaching down to pick up the book he’d thrown. With more gentleness than she expected, he smoothed out the creased pages and snapped it shut, before placing it on his desk. “She’s dating a guy who’s like three years older than her.”

“Well, how old is she?”

“Sixteen.” He said, crossing his arms. “Almost seventeen, but still too young to be dating some nineteen year old jerk-wad.” 

“Hey, not all nineteen year old boys are jerk-wads.” Wells cut in. Clarke and Bellamy both glanced at him, unimpressed. He flicked his eyes between the two of them, before looking back to his textbook. 

“It might not be such a bad thing.” Clarke said, not exactly sure how to help in this. Being a single child herself left no chances at understanding the relationship between siblings, and no way of understanding what kind of boundaries and responsibilities existed. “How do you know he’s bad for her?”

“What nineteen year old guy wants to go out with a sixteen year old? He’s in college and she’s in high school! It’s just creepy.” He pulled his chair out and plunked down in it. “I mean, sure she’s beautiful, but still. Creepy.” 

“He might not be that bad.”

Bellamy cocked his head to the side and Clarke realised that he looked sad, not angry. “She said that he was like me. That he reminded her of me.”

She smiled at him. “Well, that’s a good thing, then. I mean-”

“It’s not. If he’s anything like me then all he’s gonna do is hurt her.” He swallowed thickly and gave her one last look before swivelling his chair around, away from her. “She deserves better than that.” 

“Bellamy-”

“Hello?” Someone knocked on the door. “Clarke, babe, it’s Finn. Unless Clarke’s not here, and it’s just Wells in there, which would be really awkward.” Clarke rolled off the bed and pulled open the door. Her boyfriend was standing there with his cute shaggy hair and lopsided smirk-smile. 

“Hey.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She smiled. 

“Hey.”

“Sup Wells.” Finn nodded to the people in the room. “Bellamy.” 

Neither of them responded. Clarke whirled on her foot and stared at Wells’ head until he looked up. 

A look of complete, fake innocence sat on his face. “Oh. Sorry. Sup Collins.”

Finn huffed, before sneaking a hand out and wrapping his arm around Clarke’s waist. “You ready for lunch?”

“Mm.” She waved a good bye to Wells, and glanced to Bellamys turned away body, before stepping into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first thing Bellamy says in Tagalog is “What were you thinking?” and the second is “Well, aren't you sensible?” with sarcasm, of course.   
> Translated by my beautiful friend, who is now my official Tagalog translator <3


	6. Nate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are just really nice and it makes me happy, so I wrote this one for the guys who commented <3  
> Also, Miller and Clarke being friends is really important to me.

There was someone singing inside her apartment. 

For a second, her hand froze from where it was inserting the key into the door, and she was just about ready to call the police and report an intruder when she listened closer and realised she recognised the voice, and that calling the police would be entirely redundant. A smile crept its way onto her face and she finished turning the key before stepping into her home.

“Believe me, I know what to do, but something won't let me make love to you.” Bawdy and off-key, his voice filled the apartment, louder than the music playing from the small speakers hooked up around the living room. 

She dumped her bag on the couch and danced into the kitchen in time with the music. 

“Nate!” She squealed. He spun around, a spoon covered in chocolate cake batter held in his hand. 

“Clarkey!” He squealed back, and opened his arms, making sure to hold the spoon high, away from her hair as she leapt on him in a hug.

“What are you doing here? Why are you baking? And how did you get in?” 

She took a step back and looked at him expectantly. 

“Well, I figured that, seeing as I only get three days in a row off once every couple of months, I’d come check out your new place. And y’know, scout the surrounding area for any hot guys.” 

“Wait, what?” She raised an eyebrow. “What happened with Bryan?” 

His nose wrinkled and he turned back to his bowl of cake batter. “We were too different. That’s all.”

She nodded at his turned back, before swivelling to a cupboard and opening it to pull out a cake tin. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He answered in a way that sounded completely un-okay. 

“Okay enough that you decided to crash my place and bake a cake?”

He sniggered and turned back to her, the bowl held to his chest. “Not just a cake. There’s muffins cooling off in the fridge.”

“Oh wow, you are really, definitely fine.” She said sarcastically. He breathed a smile, before scooping a small amount of the batter onto the spoon and holding out to her. She licked it off, held it in her mouth for a moment before smacking her lips with a grin. “That’s good. As usual.” 

He smiled properly now, proud of himself, and spooned the rest of the batter into the cake tin. 

“You didn’t answer my third question.”

“Hm?” He turned over his shoulder to look at her. 

“How the hell did you get in?”

A mischievous smile and a snort of laughter. “You forget that they teach police officers to pick locks? None of that kicking down doors like in the movies. That raises legal issues and insurance problems.” 

“But picking locks doesn’t?”

“No damage, no issue.” 

She shook her head as he opened the oven, which released a wave of heat on them, and shoved the cake in, before closing it and brushing his hands down his shirt front. A smudge of flour dusted his cheeks and a bit of chocolate sat in the corner of his mouth. 

She reached up and wiped the chocolate with her thumb. Before she could pull her hand away, he grabbed it and stuck his tongue out, licking the chocolate off her finger. 

“Ew!” She laughed and wrenched her hand from his grip, wiping his spit off on her shirt. “You’re disgusting!”

“Nah.” He poked her in the stomach and she squirmed away. “You love me.”

“Disgusting.” 

“You love me.”

She pulled a face at him before strutting to the fridge and yanking it open. Two dozen chocolate chip muffins sat on the top shelf. She pulled one out for herself and handed one to him. “Where did you get the liners?” She asked as she pulled the spotted paper off of the muffin. “Cos I sure as hell didn’t have any.”

“I brought them. Along with all the ingredients, so don’t worry, you don’t have to go out and buy milk.” The words came out filtered through muffin, but she understood him.

“Ha, oh yeah. I didn’t even think of that.” She shovelled the remainder of the treat into her mouth. “So what do you think of the place?”

He looked around. “It’s nice. Big, but small, y’know.”

“Yeah.” She smiled, leaning on the counter. “That was what I thought. And, there’s heaps of wall space, so heaps of room to paint on.” She gestured around. “I’m thinking maybe a dark blue over there, and then a feature wall there, and maybe a cream trimming, but maybe white would look better, but then, if I do grey trimming with the blue wall, I can work a celestial sort of theme through the whole place-”

“It all sounds good.” He cut her off, knowing that if he didn’t, she could ramble for hours about every different colour, never settling on one. “I know that whatever you do, it’ll look amazing.” 

She grinned, surveying her place happily, until her eyes landed on the clock. “Holy shit! It’s almost one!”

His head whipped around. “Huh.”

“Were you planning on baking all night?” She asked.

“I planned on baking until you got home.” He grinned, before his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why are you home so late?”

Her cheeks flushed and she turned away, unable to control her smile. 

“Hey.” He tugged on her shirt. “Come on, you can’t do that.”

She giggled, biting her lip.

“Oh no.” He sighed. “I know that look. You made that look in the sixth grade every time Anya walked past you in the hallway.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? She had that whole ‘I’m attractive but could beat the shit out of you if you annoy me’ look about her. That’s, like, my ultimate weakness.” 

“Uh huh.” He rolled his eyes. “So, tell me, who do I have to run a background check on now?”

“Please don’t do that again. You scared Niylah away before our second date with that.”

He grinned, before nudging her with his shoulder. “Come on, tell me.”

She sighed and leaned against him. “His name’s Finn. He’s a freshman at college with Wells.”

“Mm.”

“He’s got fluffy angel hair and he’s really sweet. I promise.”

Miller looked at her, a happiness in her eyes that had been missing for a while. “So, you really like him?”

“Yeah.” She blushed deeply and looked up at him. “I mean, we’ve only been going out for a couple of weeks, but…”

He cocked his head. “But?”

She licked her lips and whispered, “Wells and I no longer sex twins.”

“What?!” Miller jumped away. “You had sex with him already? Did he force you? Or-”

“No!” She shook her head. “God, no. He wouldn’t do that. And you know I’d never let that happen. But, that’s why I’m home so late. Cos we were…”

“Yuck.” He shook his hands around. “You let me touch you and you’re all covered in sex sweat.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby.” She smacked his arm. “You’ve been covered in my sex sweat.”

It was something they both looked back on and laughed about. When Clarke was 16 and knew that she liked girls, but wasn’t sure about boys, she told Miller first, uncertain of what Wells and her parents would think. When Miller admitted that he thought maybe he was into boys, they decided to try some ‘things’ out together. 

Clarke decided she still liked boys afterwards. 

Miller definitely didn’t like girls. “No reflection on you, though.” He reassured her.

Two months later, Wells came to her, looking guilty and nervous. 

“I slept with Nate.” He told her.

“So did I.” 

Which was how they came out to each other as bisexual. 

But, since then, there had been a joke between them that they’d both only slept with the same person, and were some kind of sex twins. Clarke thought it was funny. Wells thought it was creepy.

Miller sighed and poked her in the ribs. “Well then, you need to go and have a shower and put on some clean clothes.” 

“Fine, fine.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and trotted to the bathroom. “Spare room is that one, but I don’t think I’ve made the bed yet.”

“Thanks boo boo.” He called as she stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower on. 

When she emerged, feeling clean and tired, she made her way into her bedroom to find Nate sprawled on her bed, flicking through something on his phone. 

“What are you doing?” She asked, holding her towel around her breasts. 

“Looking at recipes. I’m making you and Wells and this Finn guy dinner tomorrow. Or I guess it’s actually tonight, considering it’s already tomorrow. And the cake is in the fridge, it looks perfect but don’t eat it because I want to serve it after dinner.”

“I mean, why are you in my bed?”

“Because the spare room bed had no sheets or blankets or pillows and I’m too tired to make it right now and I miss snuggling you.” 

She pulled clean pyjamas out of a drawer and dropped her towel. Miller was too busy searching for recipes to notice, but by the time she was dressed, he’d given up.

“Oh, screw this, I’m just gonna make my chicken, bacon and spinach spaghetti.”

“As long as you go light on the spinach.” She jumped on the bed beside him. He placed his phone on the bedside table and looped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. She flicked the lights off with the switch by her bed and snuggled into him. 

“I’ve missed you.” She murmured. 

“I’ve missed you more.” He whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “It’s so different there without you.”

“I know.”


	7. Dinner Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap this turned into a monster of a chapter  
> Whoops   
> <3

She texted Wells the minute she woke up in the morning that he had to come over for dinner. He responded with the poop emoji.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She called him and demanded. 

“It means you’re a shit cook, and you know it.” He muttered. “You failed at making scrambled eggs, remember Griffin?” 

She pulled a face, even though he couldn’t see it. Nate, whom Clarke thought was still asleep beside her, woke up, saw the expression and shouted, “She’s pulling faces at you Jaha!” 

She smacked his arm as he laughed, and Wells began yelling. 

“IS THAT NATE? IS NATE THERE? PLEASE TELL ME IT’S NATE!”

“Seriously Clarke, when I wake up next to you, I expect something nicer than that.”

“Rude!” 

“CLARKE PLEASE TELL ME NATES WITH YOU!”

“For fucks sake.” Nate reached up and grabbed the phone away from Clarke. “Hey Wellsy.”

“Nateeee!” Clarke heard the cry of happiness even though the phone was pressed to Nates ear. “Oh, thank freaking hell. I’ve missed you so much. Are you making dinner tonight?”

“Yes, I am.” Nate grinned and leaned back into the pillow. 

“Give me that.” Clarke snatched the phone back. “So, Wells, you’re gonna come tonight?”

“Of course. I’d never miss out on Nates cooking. AND THERE BETTER BE DESSERT!” He yelled again, so Nate could hear it. Clarke jerked the phone away from her ear. 

“YOU KNOW IT BABE!” Nate shouted back. 

“Oh my god, stop shouting and let me talk.” She mumbled. 

“Fineee, what?” Wells whined. 

“I was going to say, you should invite Bellamy to come along.” She said, as Nate nudged her with his elbow. “He seems sad and lonely and I think it’d be nice, and a good chance for you to get to know him a little better.”

“Wait, who’s Bellamy?” Nate cut in. She slapped her hand across his mouth. 

“Yeah, sure, I can invite him, but I don’t think he’ll say yes.” 

“Why not?” 

There were a few seconds of silence, and then, “Because he’s Bellamy. He doesn’t… like people.”

She snorted. “Well, at least offer.”

“Sure.” 

“K, bye.” She hung up on him before he could starting howling Nathans name again. Slowly, she removed her hand from his mouth and he glared up at her, with a fake unimpressed look. 

“And you have the audacity to call me rude?”

“You offended my face.” She smirked. “And audacity? That’s a pretty big word, you sure you know what it means?” 

His mouth dropped open and he jumped upwards to tackle her flat on her back. “You wanna say that again?”

“Fine.” She looked him dead in the eye. “Are you sure you know what that means? Because I thought they only taught you to say ‘Freeze!’ at the police academy.”

She imitated his ‘uber-serious police face’, as he liked to call it, and wrested her arms free to form a fake gun with her hands. 

“Oh my god!” He exclaimed, while smiling, and pulled her hands apart. “That’s not even how guns look. And I’m sorry I didn’t learn your super fancy words from your super fancy law school-” His words stopped with an abrupt choking sound as he realised what he’d said. 

The laughter in her eyes had disappeared, and she pulled her arms from his grip. 

He watched, guiltily, as she rolled off the bed, her back rigid and stalked towards the door. “Clarke, I’m sorry.” He almost pleaded. “I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s fine.” She turned to look at him, and gave a watered down version of her winning smile. “Really. I can’t expect everyone to not talk about it.”

His head tilted a little to the side. “I know, but still. I shouldn’t’ve brought it up like that.”

“It’s fine, Nate.” Her fingers traced down the doorway before she left the room. Nate threw himself back onto the bed, mad at himself. Of all the things to mention, he goes and talks about law school. 

“Idiot.” He muttered.

The sound of the kettle boiling drew him out of the bedroom and he found her standing in the kitchen with her arms hugged around her stomach. Gently, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms over hers, and swayed her softly back and forth.

“I am sorry.” He whispered into her shoulder. 

“I told you, it’s okay.”

“Not about that.” He lifted his chin and rested it in the crook of her neck. “About what happened. We don’t talk about it, and I don’t think I ever got the chance to tell you I was sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She whispered, almost as a question. 

“I know, but if I’d been there, I could’ve stopped it.”

“Don’t you dare.” She said forcefully, pulling herself from his hug to meet his gaze. “I spent a year blaming myself for it, and I don’t want you to do to yourself what I did to myself.” She swallowed thickly before continuing. “It was no one’s fault. No one’s.” 

He nodded and squeezed her arm, before turning to the boiled kettle to make them both coffee. 

They spent the day locked in the apartment, catching up on life and everything that had happened in the six weeks since she’d moved away from the neighbourhood they both grew up in. Cuddling on the couch ensued until at almost four o’clock, when there was a knock at the door. 

Clarke jumped up and flung it open. Finn stood there, smiling brightly, a bunch of flowers in his hand. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” She smiled and leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips. 

As they both stepped back into the apartment, he handed her the flowers and a small package wrapped in blue paper. She looked down at her pyjamas as she took them, but then remembered he’d also seen her naked, and that pink shorts with donuts on them shouldn’t matter to him. 

Nate began moving towards them. “Uh, Finn, this is my friend Nathan Miller, we grew up together. Nate, my boyfriend, Finn.”

Finn stuck his hand out. Nate flicked his eyes over him for a few seconds, sizing him up, before meeting his hand and shaking with a strong grip. “Nathan?”

“Call me Miller.” He said a little gruffly. Clarke would’ve commented on it, but she knew Nate, and the order to use his last name instead of his first was issued to everyone he didn’t know. Finn nodded hesitantly, biting his lower lip. 

“I’m gonna go put these in water.” She said, hefting the flowers. The boys continued to stare at each other. 

Sighing, she moved into the kitchen, grabbed a vase out of a cupboard, filled it with water and unceremoniously shoved the flowers in it. Her attention turned to the small package. 

With careful fingers, she pulled the tape away, peeling off the layers of tissue paper until she came to a small piece of metalwork on a delicate chain. She held it up to the light of the kitchen and smiled. A two-headed deer. 

Still staring at the necklace, she walked back into the lounge room. Nate looked over at her. 

“What’s that?” 

Finn grinned, evidently proud of himself. “I made that.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “I figured, but what is it?”

“A two-headed deer.” Clarke whispered, gently running her fingers over the metal. “Two weeks ago, we were talking about spirit animals, and I said I thought mine was a deer, Finn said that was too ordinary for me.”

“So we decided a two-headed deer was more fitting.” Finn finished. 

He walked up behind her, took the necklace from her hands and gently slung it around her neck. It rested in the dip of her collar-bones and she reached up to feel it. 

“I love it. Thank you.” She grinned. 

“I love you.” He said back, quietly and intently, his eyes not leaving hers. 

Her smile dropped for a moment. She hadn’t considered if she actually loved him yet. She liked him, for sure. He was sweet and made her happy, but love? In her mind, love was something that required time and knowledge, and she still didn’t know him that well. 

Still, he looked at her expectantly. She opened her mouth. “I-”

“Have to go and buy the food for dinner, like you said you were going to an hour ago.” Nathan cut in. Finn and Clarke both whipped their heads to look at him. He raised his eyebrows.

“Right.” Clarke said, stepping back from Finns grip. “Right, yeah, I’ve gotta go.”

Coughing awkwardly, she made her way into her bedroom, pulled on a pair of pants and grabbed a jacket. Her phone and keys sat on the table and she pocketed them before all but running out the door. 

Finn crossed his arms, looking at Nate. Nate blinked innocently. 

“I’m a cop.” He told Finn, who lifted his eyebrows in question. “If you ever hurt her, I will beat the shit out of you without leaving any marks.”

A small noise sounded in the back of his throat, before he nodded. “I won’t hurt her.”

Clarke trotted down the stairs, nerves tickling their way up her throat. She didn’t know why she should be nervous about this, her boyfriend meeting Nathan. Something in her thought maybe Nate wouldn’t like him, or that they just wouldn’t get along, and she knew in her heart that if anything happened between them, she’d pick Nate’s friendship over Finn, and that made her feel guilty. 

Lincoln was opening his door, his motorcycle helmet in hand as she landed on his level. 

“Hey.” She said brightly. He turned, saw her and grinned, his warm smile contradicting with the scary look he usually put off. 

“Hey Clarke. Where you headed?” 

“Shops.” She pointed up to her apartment three levels above his. “My friend’s making dinner for a bunch of us, but I don’t have any food.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Sounds fun.”

She turned towards the next set of stairs and he opened his door fully to step inside. She was half off the landing and half on the next step when she hesitated. “Do you… maybe wanna join us?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, the tattoo on his neck, that peaked over his motorcycle jacket, creasing. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no problem.” She waved her hands. “I mean, if you have plans, it’s fine, but I still haven’t paid you back for helping me with Wells a couple weeks ago.”

“I didn’t do that because I expected you to pay me back.” He said. “But dinner sounds lovely. What time?”

“Just come up around six.” He smiled again, before stepping into his apartment and closing the door. 

Her phone rang while she was at the shops. A picture of Wells dancing with a slice of pizza in his hand popped up on the screen.

“What’s up?” 

“You’re not gonna believe this, but Bellamy actually said yes.” Wells said, sounding halfway between amazed and annoyed. 

“Well, whadyaknow? Clarke was right.” She smirked, grabbing two bags of spaghetti off a shelf and throwing them in her basket. 

“Yeah, but it’s not just that.” He told her. “His sister, Octavia, showed up at the dorm and he asked if it was alright if he brought her with him. To dinner.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” She spun on her heel and went back to grab another bag of spaghetti. “Nate’ll just make more food.”

“Yeah, I figured – wait, Bellamy just came in, he wants to talk to you.” There was a slight muffled noise over the speaker as the phone exchanged hands and then –

“Clarke?”

Despite herself, she smiled at the sound of him saying her name. “Yeah, Bellamy?”

“Um,” There was whispering over the line before he continued. “Are you sure it’s okay that Octavia comes? I don’t want to impose.”

“No, it’s fine.” She skipped down the aisle, swinging the basket on her arm. “I’d love to meet her. And I’m not even the one cooking, so it make no real difference to me.”

“Oh, who’s cooking?”

“My friend, Nate. He’s a really good cook.”

“Cool.” 

A silence passed between them and she stood awkwardly between the crackers and potato chips, waiting for him to say something. “Well.” He muttered eventually. “I’ll see you soon, then.” 

“See you soon.” 

It was edging on five before she made it back home. 

“Thank god!” Nate cried, jumping up from the couch. He and Finn were sitting on opposite sides of the room, the TV playing some overly-dramatic show about police officers. An explosion blared over his next few words.

“What?” She asked, lifting the grocery bags inside. He ran to her and grabbed half of them.

“I said; do you want me to look incompetent? Because at this rate, I won’t be finished cooking in time.” 

“No one’s gonna think you’re incompetent, dumbass.” She laughed as they pulled the food out, placing it on the bench. 

“Shoo.” He muttered and flicked her with a tea towel. 

“It’s my kitchen!” She exclaimed. 

“Yeah, well, not for the next hour. Right now, it’s mine.” He turned his back to her and began unwrapping ingredients.

“Asshole.” 

“Prick.” 

She smiled and walked out to join Finn. 

Within minutes, an amazing smell had filled the apartment, and Clarkes mouth began to water as she wished six o’clock would arrive sooner. When the first person knocked on the door, her heart leapt with joy, not because she was happy to see whoever it was, but because it meant it was almost time to eat. 

Wells greeted her with a smile and quick kiss on the cheek, before running past her and into the kitchen. 

“Nate!” 

“Wellsy, holy shit!”

She let out a huff of laughter and turned her attention to the two people standing in her doorway. 

“Hi.” Bellamy said awkwardly, his hand resting on the back of the small but fiercely beautiful girl Clarke had seen in the photos on his desk. 

“Hi.” She replied, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. When she pulled away, he looked taken aback, his blinks coming too rapid. But then his lips upturned and he gestured to the girl. 

“This is my sister, Octavia.” 

Clarke held her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Clarke.”

Octavia met her hand, giving her a not so subtle once-over. “Isn’t Clark a boys name?”

“O.” Bellamy hissed, but Clarke just smiled. 

“When it has no ‘e’ on the end, yes. But mine has an ‘e’. So, no.” She pulled her hand back and stepped aside to let them into the apartment. “And doesn’t the name Octavia belong in ancient Rome?”

Bellamy’s mouth dropped open, in surprise at her rudeness or knowledge, she couldn’t tell. Octavia grinned widely. 

“I like you.” She declared. “And I think my brother likes you too. Any girl who knows anything about ancient Rome is automatically in his good books.” 

Bellamy sighed deeply and stepped away from the two girls to greet Finn. 

Octavia glanced around the living room. “This is your place?”

“Mm.” Clarke nodded. “I bought it when Wells started college. Figured it couldn’t hurt to be close-by.” 

“Nice.” Something had shifted on the younger girls face, but she remained upright, her shoulders held back and her chin high. To Clarke, she looked like the kind of person who had just always been beautiful, the kind of person whose beauty didn’t come from the clothes they were wearing or the way their hair was styled, but the person who wore strength and made it look like a crown. Clarke was a tiny bit jealous. 

“Alrighty everyone, dinner is almost re-” Nate had pranced out of the kitchen, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, with Wells standing close behind him. His words stopped when his eyes landed on Bellamy. “Blake?”

Bellamys head turned quicker than Clarke had ever seen, and his features wrinkled in shocked confusion. “Holy shit. Miller?” 

Wells stepped up beside his long-time best friend. “Wait, what?” 

Nate’s face broke out in a grin. “I never thought I’d see you again.” 

Bellamy laughed. “Yeah, well, cops and almost-cops don’t tend to mix.”

“Uh-huh.” He turned to Octavia. “My god, you’ve gotten bigger, Baby Blake.”

“You know that I hate it when you call me that.” She said, stepping forward to hug him. “And, there is a big difference between twelve and sixteen.”

“There sure is.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, which was, unfortunately, a lot higher than it used to be, and, with a sad pang, he realised he didn’t have to bend down to perform the action anymore. 

“You guys know each other?” Clarke asked, pointing between the people in the room. 

“Mm.” Nate nodded. “Bellamy was training to be a cop at the same time I was. But, uh,” He looked to the other man. 

Bellamy shrugged. “But shit went down, and I wasn’t training to be a cop anymore.” 

Clarke licked her lips, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, in the midst of the awkwardness, a timer went off in the kitchen and someone knocked on the door. 

Clarke jumped towards the door and opened it, to reveal Lincoln holding a tray of something. “Hey.” He smiled nervously. “I, um, baked some bread, because I wasn’t sure what we were having, and I didn’t want to bring nothing.”

“Thank you so much.” She smiled brightly back at him. She gestured for him to come inside and told him to take the bread into the kitchen, just as Nate was serving the spaghetti evenly among seven bowls. 

“There’s definitely no one else coming?” He asked.

“Definitely.” Clarke called. “Also, this is Lincoln, my neighbour.”

He gave a shy wave of his hand. Wells stepped up to him and smiled. 

“Nice to meet you properly.”

“Same to you.” Lincoln replied, looking hesitant, evidently remembering the dazed version of Wells he had carried up the stairs those weeks ago. 

“Come and get it!” Nathan called. 

Everyone seated themselves in the lounge room, on the couches, on the chairs that went with the small table Clarke had bought as a temporary fixture until she’d finished painting and could buy a proper dining table. Wells seated himself on the floor beside Clarke’s feet, even though practically everyone offered them their own spot. He simply waved them off with a mouthful of pasta shoved in his mouth. Lincolns bread sat on the coffee table, where everyone helped themselves to pieces of it. 

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Bellamy said, looking at Nate, who shrugged.

“My dad was a lousy cook, so as soon as I was old enough, I taught myself so that I wouldn’t have to eat soggy vegetables and toasted sandwiches every day.”

An appreciative collective murmur of ‘this is really good’ echoed through the room. A slight tinge of pink made its way up Nates neck and settled on his cheeks. As if in response, he reached over and tore a piece of Lincolns bread off and stuffed it in his mouth. 

“¡Dios Mío!” He breathed through a mouthful of bread. “This is amazing.” He grabbed more and shovelled it down with some of his pasta.

Lincoln smiled. “Thank you.”

“Nsherislywer-”

“Uh.” Clarke placed her hand on Nate’s mouth. “Chew and swallow.”

Octavia sniggered. 

Nate pulled a face as she removed her hand, but did as he was told before continuing. “Where did you learn to bake bread?”

“Same as you.” Lincoln said, his left leg bouncing up and down. “I taught myself.”

“Oh, cool.” Nate opened his mouth, as if to continue, but a knock on the door interrupted him. He turned to Clarke in confusion. “I thought you said there was no one else.” 

Clarke shook her head. “There is no one else.” She handed Wells her bowl with a warning not to eat any of her food and made her way to the door. 

She opened it to find a small, beautiful woman standing there with her arms crossed.

“Can I help you?” 

“Yeah, is Finn Collins here?” She shifted onto her other foot, her eyes filled with rage and sadness and a little bit of confusion. 

“Um, sorry, who are you?” Clarke asked, keeping the door half shut so the woman couldn’t see inside. 

Her lips pressed together into a tight line and she glanced to the floor before looking up to Clarke through her eyelashes. “Tell him that Raven’s here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh duh duhhhh


	8. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I was doing my exams, but now I'm on holidays, so updates will be more regular, hopefully :)))

“Who is it, babe?” Finn called across the room. Clarke’s eyes were still on Raven, and she saw as the other girl winced at his voice. 

“Just gimme a sec.” Clarke said softly to her, and closed the door. She turned to view the lounge room. Lincoln was laughing with Octavia as she tried to stuff as much of his bread as possible into her mouth. Bellamy and Nate were having a conversation that looked intensely serious, but was probably about trees or dogs something. 

Wells was still holding her bowl of food, his empty on the floor.

“Who’s Raven?” She asked, her voice cutting across everyones happy mood. She hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but something inside her already knew what was going on and she couldn’t bring herself to not be angry about it. 

Finn paled considerably. Everyone else looked around in confusion. 

“Wait, who are you asking?” Nate asked, raising his hand as if in school. “Because the only raven I know is the bird.”

“Please, not now Nate.” She practically whispered, her gaze fixing on Finn. A hard breath made its way out of her mouth. “Who. Is. Raven.” 

Finn sighed and stood from where he was sitting. “Let me just go out and talk to her-”

“No.” Clarke shook her head. “Tell me who she is first.”

He began walking across the room, towards her or towards the door, she didn’t know.

“Clarke-”

“WHO IS SHE?”

“She’s my fiancée!” He shouted, close enough for it to scare her. “Okay? She’s my fiancée, we’ve known each other for our whole lives.” 

Clarke’s face melted into an expression of hurt and her hand flew up to her mouth, covering it before the sobbing noise she knew was coming could escape. 

“Excuse me?” Wells demanded, jumping up from the floor, his hands balling into fists. 

“Look, man, I never meant-”

“Never meant to what?” Nathan stood alongside Wells, and together, the two of them looked about ready to rip Finns head off. “Be a lying, cheating asshole? Well, hate to break it to you, but you failed.” 

Octavia glanced around the room, eyes wide, looking nervous. Bellamy shook his head at her. 

Clarke sniffed determinedly and wiped away the single tear that had escaped. “Get out.” 

“Clarke.” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes shifting to the puppy-dog expression he used when he wanted her to kiss him. Normally, she loved it. Now, it made her sick. 

She pointed at the door, stepping aside so he could get to it without touching her. “Out.” 

His jaw clenched, and he moved. But not to the door. He stepped towards her.

He was not much taller than her, and if she wore heels, they were the same height. But right now, she felt so small in comparison, as he looked down at her.

For a second, she thought maybe he was going to kiss her. 

And then something was pushing his back, not hard, not making him stumble, just back, away from her. To her surprise, Bellamy now stood beside her.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” He growled. 

Finn looked around the room, to Wells and Nathan, who had their arms crossed over their chests and the expressions of people who were ready to pounce, then to Lincoln, who had also stood up, but was standing protectively in front of Octavia, who looked a little bewildered at it all, and then back at Clarke, who refused to let any more tears out, and Bellamy, who was standing as close to Clarke as possible, without touching. 

He must’ve known it was a losing battle, so with a rough movement, he pulled the door open, turning away from all of them. 

Raven stood there, and from the expression on her face, she had heard everything that had happened within the room. When Finn took a step towards her, to leave the apartment, she leaned back then threw herself forward, letting her fist connect with his jaw. 

He hit the ground with a small squeak. From inside the room, Wells let out a snort of laughter. 

Raven looked to Clarke with sad eyes. “Sorry to ruin your night.” 

Clarke gave the smallest smile and nodded. “I’m sorry, too.” 

Finn jumped to his feet and looked between the two women. With a vicious movement, Clarke ripped the two-headed deer off from around her neck and threw it towards him. He caught it in his hand, and looked down at it in a way that she could’ve sworn was sadness. But he didn’t get to be sad right now. Not him. 

Raven disappeared from sight as she walked down the stairs. Finn soon followed after her, his pathetic shouts echoing through the building. 

Everyone in the room turned to Clarke, who finally let the sob out, let her shoulders slump downwards, her hair falling over her face. Someone let an anxious breath out, and she heard muffled murmurs and a shuffling of feet, but she couldn’t care about any of it in that moment. 

A soft hand pressed against her back and then a quiet, comforting voice was whispering through her hair. They weren’t words exactly, just comforts that did little to soothe her crying. And then, without meaning to, she turned into the warmth of the person beside her and let their arm curl around her. 

Her head leaned on his chest, and with a small shock, she realised the person holding her wasn’t Nathan or Wells. Nathan always smelled like strong coffee and smoke, Wells like chocolate and the expensive scented highlighters he insisted on buying. This man smelt like dusty old books and pine scented aftershave and watermelon chewing gum. 

Bellamy. 

The scent had lingered with her after he’d braided her hair that one time, and now, now it was strong and obvious and comforting. Unconsciously, she reached her hand to his chest and gripped his t-shirt, damp from her tears, in a fist. 

He’d never realised how small she actually was until now. Before, she’d always been such a presence, and it seemed to make up for the few inches between them. But now, with her shoulders shaking and her face hidden, she seemed tiny, no bigger than Octavia, who, in his mind, was still a child. 

Wells came up beside him. “Thank you.” He mouthed. Bellamy nodded and looked down. Miller was glancing between them and the door, as if debating whether or not to run downstairs after Finn and give him a piece of his mind. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked Wells softly, still holding onto Clarke tightly. 

“This way.” He whispered back, nodding to Clarkes room. 

Bellamy began moving, trying to guide her, but her grip on his shirt tightened and her feet refused to move. 

Wells stepped forward, as if to help, but Bellamy gestured for Wells to give him a second. He bent down a little so his mouth lined up with her ear. “Hey, Clarke.” He whispered. “Clarke, you can’t just stand here forever.” She let out a small noise and leaned further into his warmth. “So I’m gonna take you to your room, okay? You can curl up in bed and you might feel better in the morning.” 

He glanced up at Wells, who shrugged. He’d dealt with crying Clarke before, but this was different. More desperate. 

With a sigh, Bellamy shifted, bending his knees to sling an arm beneath her legs and scoop her into his arms. He held her for a second, before walking towards her room, with her face buried now in his neck. 

Wells hopped ahead of them, opening Clarkes door to let them in. Two unopened boxes were shoved in the corner and clothes littered the floor, which Bellamy stepped over carefully, towards her bed. Wells pushed a few books off her pillow onto the floor and pulled back the covers. 

Bellamy leaned down to slide her onto the bed, but her grip remained tight and she wouldn’t let go. Wells raised his eyebrows at him.

“Clarke.” He murmured to her. “Come on, Clarke.” Part of him wanted to pry her hands off of him and place her on the bed, but another part of him wanted to hold her until she was okay. 

The latter part won out. 

Gently, as gently as he could, he sat himself on her bed, her body still wrapped around his. 

He kicked his shoes off and swivelled so he was sitting fully on the bed with her held tightly in his lap. 

Wells, who watched from the door, nodded to him in thanks and went out to join the others. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” He whispered quietly, moving his arm up to brush her tear-soaked hair off her face. Her skin was all splotchy now and she looked up at him with her eyes still brimming. As softly as he could, he stroked her cheek, knowing that for Octavia, that was the ultimate comfort. “It’s all gonna be okay.” 

Her lower lip wobbled. “How do you know that?” The tears threatened to spill over again, and he leaned down to brush his lips over the skin on her forehead. 

“Because it always is.” He said, pulling his other arm around tighter to hold her closer to his body. 

“No, it’s not.” She whimpered. “It’s never okay. This always happens to me and it never gets any better.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, hoping maybe talking would help her feel better. Not that that ever worked for him, but some people needed it. Maybe she needed it. “Clarke?”

“I mean that everyone… always… leaves.” She cried between tears, pressing her face into his shirt. “Everyone leaves me eventually and I try so hard not to get attached because it just hurts more and more every time and I can’t figure out what it is about me that tells people I’m not good enough.”

At that, she dissolved, the tears becoming too heavy for her to keep going, but he knew she’d said what she needed to. “Okay.” He whispered, leaning forward to grab a fistful of her blanket and pull it over the both of them. She snuggled about as close to him as possible, the sound of her cries reverberating against his chest.


	9. The Leather Bracelet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tragic backstory time  
> My poor baby Clarke tho, sorry bout this.

“Nate wanted you to have this.” Wells said, shoving a small wrapped square across Bellamy’s desk, before turning away and walking over to his own textbook covered workspace. 

Bellamy stared at the present for a moment before picking it up. He grinned at the shoddy version of gift wrapping that was entirely accurate to Millers character and ripped the tape away, revealing a small box. He pulled the lid off and looked inside. “What’s this for?” He asked. 

“For the other day.” Wells muttered, typing something on his laptop. “With Clarke.” 

“Oh.” Delicately, he picked up the leather and silver bracelet within the box and stared at it intently. “This looks bloody expensive.”

“Yeah, well, Clarke means a lot to him and you did a lot for Clarke.” His voice was soft, soft enough that Bellamy looked over his shoulder to see if the other boy was okay. “Nate sucks at saying things, words don’t work well for him. And he thought that would suit you.” 

“Yeah, I knew that about him.” Bellamy shook his head. “But what I did for Clarke was just human decency.”

There was a silence in the dorm room, but it was no longer the heavy, awkwardness that had existed when they first began living together. It was comfort and reassurance. 

“How is she, by the way?” He asked, clearing his throat. “Clarke?”

Wells sighed. “She’s coping. I guess.” He tapped on his desk, beside his laptop. “She’s painting. It’s what she does. She paints. Her apartment looks amazing, but soon she’s gonna run out of space and she’s gonna have to feel things again and that’s what I’m worried about.” 

Bellamy pushed away his notebook and pens, unable to concentrate. “She said something.” He wasn’t sure if it was really his place to ask Wells about Clarkes private life, but the words and the way she’d said them were echoing in his mind and he couldn’t not ask. “She said that everyone always leaves.”

He heard Wells breathe deeply, heard his typing stop, heard as he spun around in his chair. “She said that?”

Bellamy turned to face him. “Yeah. She said everyone leaves her eventually and she doesn’t know why, but she thinks it’s because she’s not good enough.”

“Bloody hell.” Wells rubbed his forehead, and Bellamy could see the worry building up in his eyes. “This is not what she needs right now.”

“Right now?” He leaned forward, his hands clasping together in front of him. “What’s going on right now? Besides the whole shit-faced Finn stuff.” 

Wells looked at Bellamy intently, as if weighing up whether or not to trust him with the information. And, Bellamy couldn’t tell you why, but when Wells opened his mouth and the secrets spilled out, he felt his body fill up with happiness. 

“She hasn’t told you why she moved out here, has she?” 

“No?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was just so she could be closer to you.”

“That was just an excuse.” Wells told him. His tongue flicked out and wet his lips before he continued. “Her dad… her dad was – something happened and –” Bellamy watched him closely, unsure what he was trying to say. “He died. About a year ago now. And it was bad. Like, really bad.”

Bellamys eyes narrowed. “Like how bad?”

Wells sighed and, with no small degree of surprise, Bellamy noticed the tears building up in the other boys eyes. 

“Like she watched him get shot in the head.” 

Piercing silence filled the space. Bellamy could hear the sound of the TV playing in the room next to theirs and could feel the sweat that built up on his hands as he watched Wells fiddle with the edge of his shirt. 

“Are you serious?” He whispered, his voice breaking in the middle of the question. 

“Mm.” He breathed deeply through his nose. “It was a big mess at the law school he worked at, with my father and her mother. My father is the director of a massive law firm that doubles as a university, Alpha Law.” Bellamy had heard of the university. If given the opportunity, he would’ve studied there, but the fees were so steep, he wondered how anyone managed to afford it. He also wondered why Wells was attending a second-rate, suburban college if his dad directed a bloody law firm. “Clarke’s dad, Jake, was my dad’s highest paid lawyer, her mom, Abby, his highest paid professor. And there was this case, a really big one, for a criminal who had destroyed the integrity of life support machines, made a couple million off of it, got hundreds of people killed and…” 

“And?”

Wells had no shame in the tears that escaped. “And my dad forced the case on Jake. He didn’t want to do it, but my dad made him, threatened to fire him, Abby agreed, so Jake took the case, defended the criminal and lost.”

Bellamy’s chest squeezed. He knew where this was going. 

“All this happened around the time when Clarke first enrolled at the university. She was going to become a lawyer.” He smiled softly. “But less than a semester in, she went into her dads office just after he lost the case and saw Jake get shot in the head by one of the criminals’ friends.” 

“Shit.” 

“She blamed her mom, for a little while.” He said. “And things were never the same between them. Then Clarke was blaming herself, thinking if she had gotten there sooner, she could've stopped it. Abby never made an effort to comfort Clarke, and it kinda destroyed their relationship. And I wasn’t there at the time; I took a gap year after high school, and was halfway around the country. Her mom’s best friend, Callie, who was like an aunt to Clarke, disappeared. Her foster sister, Charlotte, ran away and turned up dead three weeks later. It was just one shit thing after the other, and I think me starting college here was the perfect excuse for her to get away from it all.” 

Bellamy leaned back in his chair, his eyes burning for the girl who was so strong on the outside. He’d never have guessed how much she’d lost, not from the way she acted, as if she was bulletproof. But the reaction to Finns betrayal made so much more sense now, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to her place and hold her until all her wounds were healed. 

“How can she…”

“Get up in the morning?” Wells asked, shaking his head. “I have no idea.” Bellamy chewed on his bottom lip. “But she does, and that’s what’s important. So, take the damn bracelet, because it means a lot to Nate, and to me, that you were there for her.” 

He picked up the bracelet again, rubbing the silver tied through the leather with a soft finger, before undoing the clasp and slipping it on. It fit with a little room left over, and he liked how it looked, but more than that, he liked what it meant.


	10. Happy Jar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but hopefully overly-caring Bellamy makes up for it :)))

He was standing at her door, staring down at her, and she looked confused.

“What are you doing here, Bellamy?” She asked.

“Uh…” He pulled his lower lip into his mouth for a moment before hefting the bag in his grip to show it to her. “I brought you something.” 

She looked him up and down, her hands hanging at her sides, covered in paint. 

He thought, for a second, that she was going to make him leave, but then her features shifted, almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to notice, and she stepped aside to let him into her apartment. 

“Wow.” He breathed turning in a circle to view it. It was a whole different world to what it had been when he’d seen it almost two weeks ago. The first wall he saw was a deep blue, almost black, with specks of grey and white over it, which then extended to the next wall, still blue, but getting lighter, until it turned into an array of amazing yellows and oranges and pinks and reds that could only be a sunrise. On the other side, where the wall was a sliding glass door that led onto a small balcony, the curtains were new, and the exact same colour as the blue on the wall, and then all around, there was grey trimmings, around the carpet and the door frames. “You did all this yourself?” 

She smiled softly and lifted her paint-coated hands. “Me, myself and these precious things.” 

“It’s amazing.” He said with as much sincerity as he could muster. “I’ve never seen a hand-painted apartment before. Normally it’s just, you know, plain, ugly walls.” 

“Well, then, I’m happy to be your first.” She gave something of a curtsey, as if to undercut the possible dirty interpretation of her words, then pointed to the bag. “What’d you bring me?”

“Oh.” He moved into the kitchen and placed the bag on the table. Slowly, he began pulling things out. “Care package. Octavia wanted to say thanks for dinner the other day, even though it…” She raised an eyebrow and he stopped himself. “She wanted to say thanks, so she sent this.” He handed her a blank CD case. In it sat a white disc with the words ‘GUYS ARE ASSHOLES’ scrawled in black marker. 

“She made me a CD?” Clarke smiled, tracing the edges of the disk with her finger. 

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “A playlist of sorts. She’s weird that way.”

“No, it’s cute.” She smiled again, before placing the CD on the table. 

He stuck his arm back into the bag. “Uh, there’s also this. Wells mentioned a couple weeks ago that this was your favourite, so I got you some.” He placed two blocks of caramel filled chocolate on the table, alongside the CD. He didn’t see it because he was so focused on the next item, but her cheeks filled with heat at the kindness of his actions. “I wasn’t sure if you were a movie kind of girl, or a book kind of girl, so I got you both.” He held up a copy of The Princess Bride movie, and two books. 

He turned now, to look at her properly. There was something in his eyes, hopeful and childish, that she hadn’t seen before. “Have you…I mean, do you…have you read them before?” 

“Dorian Gray, yes. I loved it to pieces, but lost my copy when Wells had adventures with matches a couple of years ago.”

“Adventures with matches?” He raised his eyebrows, amused. 

“Long story, bad ending.” She shook her head. “Don’t ever leave Wells alone with something that may produce fire.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm.” She gestured to The Iliad, which he handed to her. She flicked through it, picking up on some words, before turning it over to admire the engraved cover. Hard cover books were something to be admired, she thought, though she never bought them for herself. They made perfect gifts, and to receive one rather than give one made her heart fill with joy. “It’s beautiful.” 

“You’ve never read it before?”

“No.” She shook her head, still staring at the cover. “Always meant to, but never got around to it.”

“Well, now you have no reason not to.” He bit back a smile, lacing his fingers through themselves.

She looked up at him then, leaning forward to put the book down. “Thank you.” She watched his eyes flick around her face, as if he were making sure to take in every detail. Part of her appreciated it deeply, but another, more damaged part hated any attention a person may dare to give her. Her eyes moved away, and as if understanding, he took a step back, closer to the table and away from her. 

“Uh, I’ve got you one more thing.” He reached back into the bag and she blinked a few times to shake herself out of the bitter mood she’d almost shifted into. 

“My mother kept one in our house, when I was a kid, and, I know it’s pretty cheesy, but I thought it might be a nice house-warming gift of sorts, even though you’ve been here for a while now.”

Her mouth opened and she reached out to take it from of his hands. “Did you…did you make this?”

He sniffed softly and nodded. “It only took me a couple of hours. I just thought you might like to have one.” When she didn’t respond, he continued talking in an awkward babble. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to keep it, and –”

“Thank you. So much, Bellamy, this is…” Her fingers ran along the glass jar with the word ‘happiness’ printed on the side of it. Countless pieces of coloured paper were stuffed inside, and she could see words written on them, hand-written, it looked like. “A happy jar.”

“Yeah.” He rocked on his heels. “The idea is that when you’re sad, you pull one out and read it. And you can add to it, too, with your own happy memories.” 

She stared at the jar for a moment, before placing it on the table and throwing her arms around his neck. He stumbled backwards, before gaining his bearings and steadying them both, to then twine his arms around her back and hold her tightly to his chest. “Thank you.” She whispered into his shoulder, her body shuddering slightly, from tears or happiness, he wasn’t sure. 

“It’s okay.” He nuzzled into her hair and breathed deeply. There was something strangely intimate about hugs, he thought to himself. Different to kissing or sex. It wasn’t about urges, or proving anything. It was just needing the feeling of someone else’s body pressed to yours, the feeling of being held for no other reason than because you can. 

And then his mind snapped back into place and he wondered what the hell he was doing. 

He pulled back, stepping away from her embrace. 

“Uh, yeah.” He smiled, grabbing at the bag he’d brought. “I – yeah, that’s it. That’s all I brought.”

She smiled hesitantly, as if confused by his sudden retreat. “Well, thank you. It means a lot, really.”

He wanted to tell her it was no problem, that it was his pleasure, that he would, in a second, do it again. But all that he could get out was, “You’re welcome.” He began moving away, towards the door, kicking himself for thinking this was a good idea. Normal people don’t do this, Bellamy, Octavia had told him. He’d just waved her away and continued searching for the happiest quotes he could. 

Clarke watched him move, the slow, awkward shuffle and felt bad. Had she made him uncomfortable? “Bellamy.” She leaped forwards, grabbing his arm. 

“Hm?” He blinked. 

“Um,” She wracked her brain for something to say. She couldn’t actually ask if she’d made him uncomfortable, because then she definitely would make him uncomfortable. “Do you… I’m going out with a couple of friends tonight. For drinks. Wells won’t be there because he has a test tomorrow, but do you wanna come?” 

A look crossed his face, confusion or annoyance, she couldn’t tell, but then he was nodding and saying, “Yes. I mean, sure. If that’s what you’d like.” 

“That’s what I’d like.” She smiled, letting go of his arm, which she’d almost forgotten she was holding. 

“Then I’ll come. Where, and what time?”

“The Dropship, the one around the corner.”

“I know it.” He nodded.

“I’ll be there around eight.” 

“So will I.” He smiled at her, a proper smile, not a shy one, or a sad one, or one to cover up his anger, but an actual, proper smile. It filled her with warmth, and when he reached for the door handle, she didn’t want to let him leave. 

“Bellamy.” 

He turned again, looking amused. “Hm?” He repeated. 

“That time when you braided my hair.” He raised his eyebrows. “Did you learn that from doing Octavia’s hair?” 

“Yes.” She nodded, biting her lower lip. God, she felt stupid when talking to him. He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something else, reached for the door again, then turned back. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” 

His eyes flicked around the room, at the painted walls and sheets spread out on the floor. “Did you just happen to find curtains that matched the colour of the paint exactly? Or did you pick the paint based on the curtains?” 

Her eyebrows creased and her mouth slipped open into an entertained circle, before she huffed out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“What?” He shrugged. “I’m interested.”

She shook her head and pushed her hands into her stomach, laughing loudly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes, well, someone has to be.” An uncontrollable smile took over his face, as much as he told himself that he had smiled too much for one day. 

When she looked at him again, her cheeks were firmly red and he felt a large sense of accomplishment that he had managed to make her laugh. “I bought the curtains first.” 

He nodded, before opening the door and stepping out of the apartment. “Goodbye Clarke.” 

“Bye Bellamy.” She whispered. The door shut slowly, cutting off her view of him. For the first time since finding out about Raven, she felt a little more than just ‘okay’. She felt good. Happy. 

With a sigh, she ran into her bedroom and searched for her phone. “Harper? Yeah, it’s me... I know, it’s good to hear your voice too.” She walked slowly from her bedroom back into the kitchen, where Bellamy’s gifts sat. Softly, she traced over the word ‘happiness’ again. “I need a favour… No, why would you – fine, yes, there is a hot person involved... Stop laughing at me.”

There was giggling over the line, and she could hear someone yelling at Harper, probably Monroe, before she finally asked what Clarke needed. 

“Well, I kinda invited this hot person to go out for drinks, because I said I was already going out for drinks with my friends, so I need you to come out for drinks with me so this hot person doesn’t think I have no friends.” 

There was even more laughter, and it almost sounded like someone was crying and Clarke felt herself grinning at the stupidity of it all. 

“Time and place, baby girl, time and place, we’ll all be there.”


	11. Meet the Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but here it is.

“So, where is this hot person?” Harper jumped up and down on the spot, grinning like a wild monkey. When Clarke arrived, they’d all had their first round of drinks, and Harper was the Lightweight of all Lightweights. Dating Monroe seemed to balance it out a bit, seeing as she never seemed to get drunk. Ever. 

“Oh my god, please don’t tell him I said that.” 

“Ooooh it’s a guy!” Jasper reached across the bar and slid someone else’s beer towards Clarke. 

She blinked at him a couple times, before shrugging and grabbing the beer, taking a quick sip of it. “You’re still not even old enough to be in here, are you?” She asked him, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through her body. 

Jasper shrugged, slinging his arm over Monty’s shoulder. “Someone had some very convincing fake ID’s made for us.” Monty shied away from his best friend, smiling softly in the way that had others clawing for his attention, mostly in attempts to protect him. 

She shook her head, but grinned. This was the problem with having friends who were younger. 

“So, tell us about this mysterious hot guy.” Monroe said, gently seating Harper on one of the bar stools. 

“He’s Wells’ roommate.” She began, before Murphy cut her off. 

“You and Wells place a bet on who could jump his bones first?” He smirked. She leaned over and punched him in the arm. 

“No, you asshole.” He grinned widely. In high school, his single mission was to try and get her to react to him. For the most part, she succeeded in ignoring him, but when she so much as pursed her lips, his celebratory dances were ones to be laughed over. Now, they just kind of went with it, and the snark between them was much appreciated by everyone else. “And besides, I don’t know if Bellamy is into guys.” 

“Bellamy.” Monroe mused, gesturing to the bartender for another round. “It’s pretty.” 

“Thanks.” A deep voice cut in, and Clarke spun so fast she almost crashed into him. "And just, fyi, I'm into anyone who's into me."

“Hi.” She glanced him up and down, appreciating to close-cut shirt he’d slipped into. He smiled as she reached up on her toes to peck him on the cheek. “It’s nice to see you in something other than dirty jeans and a saggy t-shirt.”

“You look good too, princess.” 

“Kinky nickname, I like it.” Murphy said through his drink.

“Shut up John.” She waved her hand at him. Bellamy bit the inside of his cheeks. “And, by the way, I’m not sure where the ‘princess’ thing came from.” She looked at him with a question in her eyes. 

“Lets you know of my appreciation for that dress.” He looked at the expensive lilac number she’d never worn before and smiled. She’d noticed that there was an abundance of purple paper in the happy jar, which she’d sifted through over the last few hours, and hoped it was a sign that he liked the colour. Evidently, she was right. 

His eyes remained solidly staring into hers, until someone fake-coughed. Clarke shook her head.

“Bellamy Blake, this is Zoe Monroe, her girlfriend Harper McIntyre.” She gestured to the two girls, who waved, Harper a little sluggishly. “John Murphy is the kinky idiot, Jasper is trying to balance the shot glass on his head and Monty’s his disappointed-looking best friend.” 

Bellamy waved to them all and glanced around the bar. “So, you guys hang out here often?”

“No.” Jasper handed out shots. “But Clarkey wanted us to try this place out, get used to her new area.”

Bellamy downed his drink, nodding. “You all grew up together?”

“High school.” Monty put in. “Clarke and Wells lived on one end of the suburb, and their houses were the best place for parties. If their parents weren’t home.”

“We all lived on the other end, the four of us in a row.” Harper said, holding up five fingers. Monroe patted her shoulder gently, whispering something in her ear. 

“And I just kind of shoved my way in.” Murphy smiled, even though the story was far from happy. Shoved was a gentle way of saying he ended up sleeping on Jaspers floor for a week, then rotating between all of their houses for the rest of his junior year, after his mum beat him up and told him not to come back.

“What about you, Bellamy?” Jasper danced around, his feet jiggling. “Wells’ roommate, huh?”

“Yep.” He nodded, sidling closer to Clarke. “Although, I didn’t really get to know Wells until I started talking to Clarke.”

“Aww, that’s cute.” Harper cooed at the same time as Murphy stepped forward and asked, “What, you got a problem with Wells?”

His eyes widened. “No, Wells is great, he’s a good guy, good roommate. I just – dunno, didn’t plan on making friends in college.” Clarke looked at him curiously. She’d always figured he just didn’t like people, not that his prickliness was a conscious decision. 

“Why not?”

“For starters, everyone I go to class with is younger than me.” 

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.” Everyone looked around to find Nathan standing behind their small group, his arms crossed. Harper leapt off her stool and threw her arms around his neck, almost pushing him over, but, like always, he was ready for it, and he steadied himself in time to clutch her back tightly.   
“Hey McIntyre.”

“Millsy.” She leaned back to stroke his face, a shaky hand trailing down the stubble that had built up on his sharp jaw. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He smiled, guiding her towards Monroe, who reached out and helped her girlfriend back onto the bar stool. “How you doing?” He pressed a kiss to Monroe’s cheek and she nodded in return. 

“I didn’t know you were coming Miller.” Bellamy turned to Clarke who shrugged. 

“I didn’t either.” She said, reaching upwards to pull Nates beanie off.  
He smiled guiltily. “Harper may have called me, told me we were meeting Clarkes new ‘hot friend’. Thought I should show and make sure this one isn’t a jackass.”

Her cheeks filled with heat and she shook her head urgently. He raised his eyebrows, not understanding her warning. 

Bellamy seemed to deflate a little. “Oh, is someone else coming?”

She looked to him, wide-eyed. “Um, no. I don’t think so. I don’t-”

“Hold up.” Murphy stepped between them, his hands raised. “Do you and Nate already know each other?” 

“Police academy.” Miller reached over and took Jaspers drink from his hands, to take a long sip from it. “Blake and I were in the same trainee unit.”

“So, you’re a cop too?” Monty asked softly, pushing his drink away, as if remembering he wasn’t old enough to actually be there. 

It was then that Miller seemed to notice the other boy. He smiled widely. “Hey Greenbean.”

Monty bit his lower lip, his eyes travelling to the floor. “Hi Nate.” 

Bellamy glanced between them, before answering. “No, I’m not a cop. I’m a college student.”

“Wait, you said your name was Bellamy Blake.” Jasper sidled up beside Bellamy, trying to look him in the eye, but having to crane his neck in the process, which left him looking scrawnier than normal. “Are you related to Octavia Blake?” 

Bellamy cocked his head to the side. “She’s my little sister. Why?”

“Oh, we went to the same summer school. I had the biggest crush on her.” 

“Jas!” Clarke stared at him, open-mouthed. 

“Right!” Jasper saluted awkwardly, stepping away from Bellamy. “Probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“Probably shouldn’t be in here, either.” Miller said. “Aren’t you still seventeen?” 

“Maybe.” He swayed from side to side, in a half-drunk state. “But if I leave, Monty has to as well, and I knowww that you won’t make your Greenbean leave.”

At that statement, Monty slipped, his hand banging on the bar loudly, before he steadied himself, cheeks flushed red. Miller glanced around, to Jasper and his determined face, to Monty, to Jasper, to Monty, then shrugged. 

“I won’t report you, but no more drinks.” He said, moving the one that Jasper was reaching for. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Clarke looked at Bellamy apologetically, before gesturing to all her friends. “Meet the gang.” 

He smiled, nodding, before moving into the space beside her, his arm brushing against hers. “I like it. They’re nice.”

“Good.” She shifted, tugging on the top of her dress to pull it up a little. “Because if you didn’t like them, we couldn’t be friends.”

His head tipped back and he laughed, a sparkling sound that filled her with more warmth than any drink she’d ever had. “Just one question though.” He said, still smiling. 

“Hm?”

“How old are all of them? I’m still kinda confused on that front.”

“Right.” She slid a wad of cash to the bartender, and he slid them two more drinks. She handed one to Bellamy before answering. “So, Jasper and Monty are our babies, they’re seventeen, like Octavia. Both still in high school, graduating in a couple of months.” He smiled, watching Jasper try to flirt with one of the girls behind the bar. She nodded graciously, taking the alcohol-drowned compliments as they came. “Then, Harper, Monroe and John are eighteen, so they finished last year, but none of them know what they want to do. The girls are thinking about joining the military, John… will figure something out. He always does.” As they watched her friends laugh, she didn’t realise that she’d moved closer to Bellamy, her body pressing up against his. He noticed. “And then, me, Wells and Nate were all in the same grade. School finished, Nate joined the Academy, Wells travelled and I…” 

He knew the story, but she didn’t know he knew it. If she wanted to tell it, he’d listen, but this didn’t feel like the time or place. “You ended up here.” He put in for her. 

“Yeah.” She glanced at the non-existent space between them and moved a little closer. His arm slipped around her waist, for his hand to rest on her hip, over the fabric of the ridiculously soft dress. “I ended up here.” 

She leaned her head on the side of his shoulder, fitting into his side like two pieces of a puzzle completing each other. 

“You know, it’s funny.” He whispered, swaying her in time with the soft tune that had begun in favour of the normal upbeat music.  
“What?”

“Besides visiting Octavia, you’re the only reason I’ve left the dorm since starting college.”

“Really?” 

“Really.” He held her tightly, and they watched her friends laugh together. Something of a dance floor cleared in the centre of the room, and people grabbed each other, moving to the music like leaves in the wind. 

She was not the dancing type, not when sober, not when drunk, and not when she was in-between. But watching other people dance, really dance, with nothing between them but soft, soft music, that was something she enjoyed. When they were people she cared about, she enjoyed it even more. 

With Bellamy at her side, she watched Harper drag Monroe to the centre of the room, and pull her against her, and soon they were just a tangle of arms and hair and something that looked like love. A beautiful tattooed woman took John by the edge of his shirt and swayed him to her own beat. He grinned stupidly and pressed gentle kisses to her neck. Knowing John, it would end the minute the sex did, or it would go on forever and he’d never stop loving her. Clarke hoped for the latter. 

The pretty bartender that Jasper tried to flirt with was laughing as he dropped to his knees to beg for a dance. She gestured to her customers, shaking her head gently. He persisted, hopelessly, and Clarke had to look away, in time to see Monty nod shyly in response to Nates extended hand. 

“Look.” She whispered to Bellamy. He murmured a question and she pointed to the two boys. Miller was out, obviously out, but Monty was quiet about himself, to both his family and his friends. And public displays of anything, no matter what they told the world about him, were avoided at any cost. 

She felt Bellamy smile into her hair as Nate wrapped an arm around Monty’s middle, and she felt herself smile as Monty dropped his head onto Nates shoulder, and then they smiled at each other as Nate used his free hand to twist his fingers through Monty’s. 

“Has that been a long time coming?” He asked her softly. 

“We’ve kinda all been waiting for it. But it’s complicated.” She reached down and pulled his hand into hers. She stroked his fingers with hers, tracing every line of his palm. “They’ve always liked each other, but Monty’s not out to his parents, and Nate’s older, so it’s just-”

“Complicated.” He moved them closer to the bar as the soft song ended and a powerful beat started once again. 

They ordered more drinks, and before his mind got too fuzzy, he remembered Nates comment from earlier, about meeting Clarkes new ‘hot friend’. She didn’t seem to be interested in anyone in the small group, and they’d all been friends for ages. So there was no one new. 

“Hey, Clarke?” He nudged her softly from where she swayed by his side. 

“Hm?” Her eyes reflected the light, glinting with a medicated happiness unlike anything he’d seen on her before. Sure, he’d seen her happy. Drunk? Not yet. But this was halfway to drunk and the look on her face was so full of joy, he wasn’t sure how much of it was the alcohol and how much of it was her just happy to be with her friends. And him. God, he hoped that part of her happiness came from the fact that he was with her. Even if it was just the tiniest bit. 

“Miller said something, when he first got here…”

“About what?” She flipped her hair, pushing a drink into his hands. But he didn’t take a sip. No. He held onto it, leaving his eyes firmly planted on hers. 

“Um…” He breathed in deeply, feeling a smile spread over his face. “About-”

“Oh my god.” She froze in place, her eyes widening, and the misty, almost-drunk look lifting from her features. “Holy shit.” 

“What?” He spun around to see what she was staring at. 

There was a girl, dark haired, tanned, and obviously very drunk, sitting at the end of the bar, a line of empty tequila glasses lined up in front of her. Other than that, he could see nothing that would make Clarke worried. Until the girl moved her head to the side and Bellamy realised he knew her. Or at least, recognised her. 

Raven.


	12. Home Again

“I don’t need help.” She slurred, almost tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. “Especially not from you.” 

Clarke bit back her reply and continued to follow Raven, silently screaming that she didn’t want to be there either. 

“Seriously, Clarke,” Raven turned and looked at her then, with a harsh look in her eye, and a voice that turned Clarke’s own name into a weapon against her. “Leave me alone.” 

“Can’t do that.”

Raven rolled her eyes and continued to wobble away, unsure on her very inebriated feet. Clarke debated letting her go off on her own, but she knew that if the roles were flipped, no matter how much she would insist on being left alone, she’d want someone to help her.

“And why not?” 

“Because you’re drunk off your face and I wanna make sure you get home okay.” 

Raven stopped walking, her chest heaving for a moment, before she talked. “Why do you care?” 

“Because it’s my fault that you’re here in the first place.” 

“No.” Raven spun, almost too quickly to stay balanced, and stared Clarke in the eye. “You don’t get to blame yourself. Not when I’ve just gotten past that.” Clarke raised her eyebrows, confused. “It’s not your fault you fell for the sweet-talking guy with the great hair. And it’s not my fault that my fiancée cheated on me.”

“But – ”

“I just said don’t!” Raven yelled, throwing her hands out. “Do you not know what that means?”

Clarke sighed, glancing around the dark street. The very few lights that were working glowed an ugly, dull yellow and did very little to show anything that might be waiting behind a corner or behind the parked cars. 

She’d convinced Bellamy to stay at the club, that this was her problem to deal with. He’d only let her follow after Raven when she promised to text him once she got home. “If you don’t text in an hour, I’m going to come looking.” “Good.” 

“Yes, I know what ‘don’t’ means.”

“Then stop trying to argue with me. Okay, just stop because I don’t want to blame you anymore. I want to blame him because it’s his fault. It’s not because I wasn’t a good enough fiancée, and it’s not because you wanted to break us up, it’s because he’s a lying, cheating dirt-bag who doesn’t deserve to be loved by any girl, especially not us, so stop blaming yourself, because it’s really messing with my progress.” 

Clarke chewed on the inside of her cheek, unsure how to respond to that. You’re right, she wanted to say, you’re completely, totally right. Good on you for moving on so quickly, I don’t know how you did it. I only dated the guy for a few weeks and it messed me up, so good for you for being that confident. “Okay.” Was all she said. 

Raven nodded shakily, a few wisps of hair slipping out of her ponytail to frame her face in a way that, if Clarke didn’t hold an informed opinion on the subject, would’ve looked intentional. 

She stumbled slightly, taking one step away from Clarke, a step back, and then a step towards the street. 

“Whoa, where are you going?” Clarke reached out and grabbed the other girls arm. 

Raven jumped away, her eyes fluttering desperately between open and shut, and Clarke thought maybe she was going to faint. But then she doubled over, hands hanging by her sides and emptied her stomach at Clarkes feet. 

“Nice.” Clarke muttered through her teeth, and moved behind Raven to rub small circles on her back. 

Raven continued to heave, her body shaking miserably, and Clarke could feel the bones hidden beneath a hard layer of muscle below Ravens shirt. She tried not to focus on that for the time being, and concentrated on keeping Raven on her feet. 

“I should go.” Raven slurred, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Cab. I should go cab. Call home. Home cab.”

Clarke sighed, holding onto Ravens arm gently, just enough to stop her from wandering off. “You want me to call you a cab?”

“Mm.” Raven nodded, wincing, her body shifting closer to Clarkes.

“Okay, is there gonna be someone there to check on you?”

Raven snorted and all but collapsed on Clarkes shoulder. “Nup.”

“Okay.” Clarke threaded her arm around Ravens waist, holding her steady, trying to think of a solution. “Okay.” 

Raven giggled. “You’re warm.” 

“You’re drunk.” 

Clarke couldn’t, in good conscience, leave a drunk girl to fend for herself at this time of night, in this neighbourhood. And she couldn’t let someone try to handle the kind of hangover Raven would have in the morning on their own. 

“Shit.” She muttered. 

“What is?” Raven mumbled, her jaw rubbing against Clarkes arm with the words. 

“Nothing. Let’s go.” 

“Go where?” Raven stepped in time with Clarke as she pulled her the other way, back towards her own apartment. 

“Somewhere warm.” 

“Oh, good. I like warm things.” 

Clarke tried not to giggle and concentrated on keeping Raven on her feet. 

“Y’know, my mum always said not to go home with people when you’re drunk.”

“Uh huh.” Clarke shifted her arm, hefting Raven a little higher so that almost all her weight was falling on Clarke. 

When Clarke knocked on Lincolns door, an unconscious Raven on her shoulder, he shook his head softly, scooped up the snoring girl and followed Clarke up the stairs. 

“So, you’re the emergency number for the drunk friends?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “No judgement.” 

She huffed a laughed. “No. I just happened to run into her.”

“Oh.” He looked down at Ravens sleeping form and frowned. “Isn’t this…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

She unlocked her door and gestured for him to follow her into the spare room. Since Millers last visit, she’d made up the bed, but no one had slept in it yet, so it was done perfectly, hotel-style. A small part of her was proud that Lincoln got to see it. 

After Clarke pulled back the covers, Lincoln laid Raven down gently. 

“Do you need anything?” 

“No.” Clarke shook her head, squeezing his arm. “Thank you, for this. Again.” 

He smiled. “Anytime.” He moved, as if to leave, before turning back and pulling her into a tight hug. “I mean it, anytime.” 

She hugged him back, before focusing on Raven. Slowly, she took off the girls boots and placed them on the floor, pulled out the hair-tie that was barely making a ponytail, then tugged the covers up to her shoulders. She looked different while sleeping, the subtle, but ever-present anger gone from the lines around her eyes, leaving her with a beautiful, peaceful look. 

After placing a glass of water and painkillers on the bedside table, Clarke shut the door softly, trying not to make any noise. 

She pulled out her phone and found six messages and a missed call. All from Bellamy. 

Hey princess. U ok?

I know I said an hour but im worried.

Princess? 

Im gonna call you

1 missed call – Bellamy Blake

You didnt answer.

Im gonna come looking if you don’t answer.

She smiled to herself, before tapping the small green button and calling him back. 

“Clarke?” He all but shouted. “Clarke, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Raven’s fine, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“She’s asleep in my spare bed.”

“Oh.” He let out a deep breath. “Okay, so you made it home.”

“Yeah.” She nodded to herself. “I made it home.” 

“Good, that’s…” Even though she didn’t know why, the relief in his voice was comforting. Welcome. “That’s good.” 

“Yeah.” She moved towards her bedroom. “How was the bar?”

He sniggered. “Your friends are fun. Complete idiots, but fun.” 

“Oh good, they held nothing back.”

“No.” He laughed. “Nothing. Nothing was held back. Especially from Jasper. He is freakishly skinny.”

“Oh god, he took his shirt off didn’t he?”

“Yep. It was… very white.” 

She snorted. “Mm. Glad I missed that.” 

“Yeah, lucky you.” She could all but see his smile. “Funnily enough, the cute bartender he was flirting with actually gave him her number.”

“No way!” She tugged at her dress, trying to pull it off while continuing the conversation.

“Yes way!” His excitement was contagious, and she laughed with him, flopping back on her bed wearing just her underwear. “It was cute, she wrote it on his arm, kissed him on the cheek and then ran away. He’s chasing her down right no – oh, wait, he’s back. Hey Jas!” 

She pulled a jumper off the floor and over her head, before curling into a ball, her phone pressed to her ear. 

“How’d you do – oh, there she is! Hi. Yeah, sorry about him. No – oh, sorry Clarke.” He spoke to her again, remembering she was still on the line. 

“It’s alright.” She said quietly. “Keep talking, it’s nice to hear you all so happy.” Specifically you, she was saying in her head. It’s nice to hear you happy, I can see your smile through the sound of your voice, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“You sure?” He asked. “I can leave the bar, if you wanna keep talking.”

“No, stay there. You sound like you’re having fun.” 

“I am.” He breathed. “I really am, thank you for inviting me. Even if you’re not here.” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, hey Miller! Nice going!” 

She put her phone on speaker and placed it on her pillow beside her head. He kept talking, sometimes to her friends, sometimes to her, and eventually, the sound of his kindness and laugh had her falling slowly to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short, I've been busy but I'm on holidays now! Yayyyy. So more should come soon :) Love all of you guys xx


	13. The Assurance of a Raven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been ages, but I FINISHED HIGH SCHOOL so I got a shit-load of spare time on my hands now. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely anon who found me on tumblr - thank you for your kindness <3

“What in the fucking hell am I doing here?”

Light flooded Clarke’s room and she shot upwards in her bed, her hair sticking to her mouth. “What?”

Raven stood in her doorway, eyebrows raised, looking amazingly good for someone with dark circles under their eyes and clothing so wrinkled you could almost sell it as on purpose. “Why am I in your house?”

“You were drunk and alone and almost walked out in the middle of the street and then you kinda passed out on my shoulder, so I brought you here.” Clarke scratched her cheek, trying to wake herself up.

“Oh.” She stretched her arms above her head, surveyed Clarke’s room and shrugged before turning away and pattering off to the kitchen. “You got any pancake mix?”

Clarke rolled out of bed, squinting in the light. “Make yourself at home.” She muttered as she found Raven in the kitchen, her crumpled shirt discarded on the floor, standing on her toes to scrounge through cupboards in her bra.

“Pancake mix?”

“That one.” She gestured to a cupboard through her yawn and sat down at the table. Silently, she watched Raven move around as if she owned the place, mixed up enough batter for two, and then began banging pans around to find one the right size. “You okay?”

“What?” Her hair flicked over her shoulder as she turned to look at Clarke.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her hands moved automatically, as if without thinking, like she’d gone through the steps a hundred times. “I can handle a hangover.”

Clarke sighed. “Yeah, but it’s not just a hangover.”

“I said I’m okay, so how about you shut up and let me make you breakfast?”

Her hands lifted off the table in a sign of surrender and she leaned back in her chair to watch the other girl cook. “I’ll only shut up if you add chocolate chips.” Raven gave her something of a grin and moved towards the cupboard Clarke was pointing to, then proceeded to tip half the bag of chocolate chips into the batter without hesitation.

“Your phone was ringing, by the way.” She said over her shoulder, while facing the stove. “It’s what woke me up.”

“Oh.” Clarke slid out of the chair, unceremoniously, and slouched her way back to her bedroom. She squinted around the room, checking on her dresser, her bedside table, the floor, when she remembered how she’d fallen asleep last night, and scrounged around on her bed. Her phone was wedged between her mattress and her headboard, and flashed telling her of six missed calls and forty seven messages. “Jesus…”

She wandered back into the kitchen and flicked through the messages, grinning at Jaspers drunken, happy ones, the picture from Nate of a sleeping Monty in what looked suspiciously like Nate’s bed, Harpers collection of mumbo-jumbo and the two solitary texts from Bellamy.

_1 missed call – Bellamy Blake_

_1 voicemail message – Bellamy Blake_

_Thank you for tonight Princess._

_I enjoyed it so much._

_3 missed calls – Bellamy Blake_

_1 voicemail message – Bellamy Blake_

She clicked on the play-back button for the first message and lifted her phone to her ear, an eye on Raven as she flipped the pancakes, swaying her hips gently.

_“Hey Princess – uh Clarke. Princess Clarke. Clarke the Princess. Thank you for inviting meeee. It was fun and I like your friends and I like drinking and I like you and thank you for it and I wish you’d been able to stay but I’m glad you’re a nice person and did you know that your friend John is a good kisser? Cos he is and – ”_

Her phone beeped, indicating he’d run out of time, but she laughed and shook her head, knowing exactly where he was going with the message; into the depths of drunkenness happiness.

“What’re you smiling at?” Raven asked, sliding a plate in front of Clarke.

“Hm?” She looked up and saw Raven dishing up pancakes for the both of them. “Oh, nothing. Just my friend. He’s a cute drunk.”

Raven nodded to Clarke’s phone, indicating she wanted to see. “How cute?”

Clarke played the message again on loudspeaker, and saw Raven’s lips upturn in an almost-smile. “So, he’s a friend?”

“Yeah. A good one, I guess. I mean, we haven’t known each other that long but he’s… he’s a friend.”

Raven raised an eyebrow in doubt or scepticism, but turned her attention to her food. “Tell me bout’ this friend then.” She said, chewing loudly.

“Huh?”

“Tell me bout’ him. We need something to talk about cos I hate awkward silences and the only thing we have in common that I know of is Finn, and we sure as hell ain’t talking about that slimy dirt-bag so, tell me about this ‘friend’.”

Clarke blinked rapidly, before shrugging and shovelling pancake into her mouth. “He’s in college, he’s roommates with my best friend.”

“First year?”

“Mm.”

“So he’s, what, nineteen?”

“Nah, he’s twenty-two.”

“Why’s he only starting college now?”

“I…I’m not sure. He was in the police academy with my friend Nate a couple of years ago, but didn’t finish training. Didn’t say why, but it happened, I guess, and now he’s in college.” 

“What’s he gonna major in?”

“I don’t know.”

Raven sighed and put her fork down. “So what do you know about this guy? This ‘good friend’ of yours? You just interested cos he’s hot? Is he hot?”

“No – it’s not like – I mean, yeah, I guess, objectively – I mean – ”

“You like him.” Raven said point-blank, staring at Clarke, with humour written in the lines of her face.

“No – ”

“You like him.” Clarke could see this was going to be an unrelenting question, so she took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Maybe. He’s nice… and hot,” She added, giving Raven a look. The other girl lifted her hands, as if to say ‘I told you so’, before gesturing for Clarke to continue. “But I haven’t really had the best luck in choosing romantic partners and I just… he’s Wells’ roommate, and Nate’s old friend and if I screw it up the way I always screw things up, it’ll ruin things for more than just the two of us. And I enjoy being his friend.”

“Hate to break it to you but that is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard.” Raven folded her arms across her chest. “I think you’re scared.”

“I – ”

“You’re scared that he doesn’t like you back, and so you don’t even want to try. You’re scared you’re gonna get hurt again, so ignoring it all is easier than ever pursuing it. It’s not about everyone else, as much as you might be trying to convince yourself it is.”

The part of Clarke that was untainted by life appreciated the straightforwardness. The bitter part hated her for it.

Clarke wanted to be mad at her, but she just couldn’t find anything in what she’d said that was worth denying. She barely knew her and yet understood that Raven was good at reading people and didn’t bother holding anything back. She was above it and would apologise for nothing.

And she went straight back to stuffing her face with pancake.

Clarke took a deep breath and shook her head. If Raven was right, which she probably was, then what was holding her back? It wasn’t Finn, he was long gone, and she would be content to never think about him again. And yeah, she guessed that maybe she hadn’t given her friends enough credit. They’d stood by her through everything and she wouldn’t lose them over something like a boyfriend.

It’s you, the voice in her head whispered. You, and your gods damned doubt. You think you’re not good enough, that you don’t know him well enough, that not knowing it what led to Finn.

I’ll prove you wrong, she screamed at the voice in her head.

“He has a little sister.” Clarke said, leaning back. “Her names Octavia. She’s sixteen and lives about half an hour away from here. She went to summer school with my friend Jasper and is dating a nineteen year old, who Bellamy hates. His father was Filipino, so he speaks Tagalog, along with three other languages, plus English. His favourite book is _The Iliad_ and his favourite colour is purple. He has a tattoo on his butt. He – ”

“Hold up.” Raven interrupted there, finally looking away from her food with a wild grin on her face. “Did he _tell_ you about the ass tattoo or did you see it?”

Clarke grinned back, before standing from the table, strutting out of the room, and returning with her happy jar. She reached in and pulled out a particularly large piece of purple paper, detailing the story of the one time Bellamy got into a stupid bet that led to one wrecked car, a small house fire and the image of Leia Organa on his left butt cheek.

Raven read it silently before bursting into laughter. “Jeez, that is… the best thing I’ve ever read.” She examined the piece of paper in her hands, frowned, then eyed the jar, before her eyes rolled and she gave Clarke one of the most incredulous looks she’d ever seen in her life. “Holy hell, do not tell me _he_ made this for you.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And you have doubts about whether or not to pursue this? Jesus, Clarke! The guy created a frickin happy jar with stories about himself in it! You know how long it would take to handwrite a single note. There is hours of shit in there that he wrote on the off-chance that it would make you smile!”

She bit her lip and shrugged. “I know.”

Raven slapped the piece of paper onto the table, making the cutlery rattle. “Well, he is very, _very_ clearly into you. And you’re pretty fucking sure you’re into him, so what the hell are you gonna do about it?”

Clarke looked down at her phone and saw it still blinking, reminding her of the other voice mail Bellamy had left. She clicked on it and put it on loudspeaker.

_“Hey Princess, I know I left a voicemail last night, not entirely sure what it said, but sorry if it’s just me being a hopeless drunk mess. Last night was amazing, your friends are amazing, this hangover is amazing. Um, thank you for inviting me. Call me back to let me know you’re all good. Um…bye.”_

Raven stared at Clarke through her eyelashes, asking the silent question.

“I’m gonna ask him out.”


	14. Deep Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry, I know I'm a lazy shit. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

The door to their room was locked. Which was strange. 

Wells was terrible at locking things. On purpose. "If someone needs a car that badly, then why shouldn't I make it easy for them to take it?" He'd said once, and she'd rolled her eyes so hard that she ended up with a headache. She guessed, that with the extreme wealth surrounding them both, despite the fact that they couldn't touch the 'extreme wealth', made it easier to look away when others took what they owned. 

Which was why, when she visited Wells at his family home, the front door was practically never locked. A simple invitation. If he couldn't donate the money, he'd donate the crap he didn't want that the money had bought. And put himself at risk at the same time. 

So when she reached for the handle of the crappy dorm room and found it locked, she almost recoiled in surprise. 

"Wells!" She banged on the door. "C'mon, Wellsy, I know you're in there, your test finished over an hour ago! Nap times over, it's Clarke time now!" She knocked again, with the side of her fist, and the door rattled. "Bellamy? Are you in there?" People walked past, books in their arms, giving her strange looks, even though she was here practically every other day. She was almost tempted to stick her tongue out at them. "Come on guys, this isn't funny. Wells! Bellamy! Wellamy!!! Bells! I swear if you're both wearing headphones again, I am going to take a pair of scissors to every set of headphones I see for the rest-"

The door flew open to reveal a half-asleep, half-naked Wells. "Hi."

She grinned and smacked a kiss to his cheek before trotting into the room. "Heya. How was your test?" 

"Fine. I guess." He shut the door, but didn't move to join her on the bed. "You have as much fun as Bellamy last night?"

"Hm?"

"He got here around 3 am, drunk as shit, with hickeys all over his neck." She raised her eyebrows, but Wells smiled lazily. "John. He said John gave 'em to him."

"Oh." Her thoughts drifted back to the voicemail he'd left. "Yeah, that follows." 

Wells nodded, and shuffled his feet, his back pressed against the door. "So you invited all our friends to meet Bellamy without me?" 

Her eyes snapped to him. "Wells." 

He shrugged. "I don't mind, I just would've liked to be there."

"I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay." He stepped towards the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I don't mind, really. I just think it's weird that you've known him for what, four months now? And on one of the few nights where I can't go out, you all do." 

She looked up at him and saw on his face that he was telling the truth about not being upset. In fact, there was a small spark behind his eyes that she knew meant he had a question. "What?"

"Why?" He responded, raising his eyebrows. "Why last night? Cos he got here and was blushing for like an hour, before he started getting ready."

Unconsciously, she bit down on her lip to stop her grin from spreading. 

Wells tipped his head to the side. "What happened? What happened that I don't know about?" He dropped down on the bed next to her, grabbing both her shoulders now to shake her gently "Clarke what did you do?"

"I-" She tried to tell him, but the words got clogged up by her smile and the unfailing joy that grew in her throat at the thought of actually, officially admitting she had more-than-friendly feelings for Bellamy. 

Wells looked at her intently, smiling simply in response to hers and tried to read the expression on her face.

“I kind of invited him out because, well, when he came over, he was really, _really_ , sweet Wells, you should’ve seen what he brought me, honestly, he was just being so nice, and it made me realise, well, not realise, exactly, but kind of just understand, if you get me, and I wanted him to meet everyone before I actually asked him, or something, but I wanted to ask him like right there, on the spot, so I told him I was having drinks with friends, and he said he’d come, and then I invited everyone, and if I’m being honest with you, I just really wanted an excuse to spend time with him, you get me?”

Wells squinted at her. “No.”

She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. “I think that I maybe, kinda, sorta like him. Like, like-like him. And I was too scared to ask him out properly yesterday, because I didn’t know if he liked me back, but I think he does, and my god, I sound like a twelve-year-old, but Wells, for real, I really, really like him.”

When she opened her eyes, ready for either Wells’ judgemental look, or an unsurprised smirk, but, instead, all she saw was a great deal of happiness in his eyes. “You like him?”

She nodded slowly.

“And you think he likes you too?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Her thoughts wandered through all their interactions, his fingers in her hair, his hand against her back, the thought behind his gifts, his arm wrapped around her waist, the way he said Princess, and it wasn’t condescending, it was a simple expression of affection. “I hope.”

Wells smiled and gave her a light shove. “Jesus, you dork, was it that hard to say?”

“Shut up!” She laughed and fell onto her back. “I just…I was so nervous after…” After Finn, she wanted to say, but almost choked on the name. “After everything…and I only just figured out how I really feel.” Wells murmured in acknowledgement, lying beside her. “Actually, it was Raven who helped me reach the point of needing to ask him out.”

“Hold up.” Wells looked her in the eye. “Raven? As in douchebags Raven?”

“Mm.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay.” He turned and faced the ceiling. “Tell me anyway.”

She didn’t realise how long they talked until her stomach started making noises so loud that Wells made a whale joke, and they decided it was probably time for food. Which was when she realised that Bellamy hadn’t been there all day.

“Where is he, by the way?”

Wells frowned, and glanced around the room. “Um, I don’t know, he left just before I had to go and take the test.”

“Oh.” She rolled off the bed onto her feet. “Kay, well, I’m hungry. Let’s go.”

Neither of them were bothered to cook, and sitting in a restaurant was effort, so they picked food up and Clarke drove them back to her place. Wells seemed to deflate a little when she told him that Raven had left hours ago.

Both of their moods, however, changed completely when they made it up the stairs to Clarkes floor, and found Bellamy sitting on the ground outside her door.

If it weren’t for the tear-stains on his cheeks, she would’ve said he looked like someone who had partied too hard the night before, and was simply recovering from a hangover. But the lines were there, written through his freckles and something inside her squeezed.

“Bellamy.” She breathed, and thrust the bag of food into Wells’ arms so she could kneel in front of him and make sure he wasn’t hurt.

No signs of injury, except for several, deep hickeys, which from a distance, looked like bruises. “Hey.” She put her fingers beneath his chin and lifted his head so he’d look her in the eye. “Bell, what’s wrong?” She heard the shuffle of Wells’ feet when she called him Bell.

He blinked at her, and his lips parted, wobbling slightly. “Octavia.”

“What happened?” Her hand moved, slowly, and before she knew what she was doing, her thumb was rubbing soft lines down his cheek.

“I can’t…” He started, but more tears gathered in his eyes and the words refused to come out. “I…”

“Okay.” She passed her keys backwards to Wells, before reaching for Bellamys hand. “Come on.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and let her think she was pulling him to his feet, but really, he liked the feel of her hand in his. He only got to appreciate it for a second before he remembered why he was there.

Her free hand pressed against his back, and they followed Wells into the apartment.

“I’m so sorry, Clarke, I didn’t mean to do this and I just-”

“Hey.” She shook her head. “Its fine.” She pushed him towards the couch. Wells sat in the arm chair beside them, looking at Bellamy with concern.

“Is Octavia okay?” He asked, the question slipping out before Clarke could ask it herself.

Bellamy looked at him, then at Clarke, and when something resembling shame made its way across his face, he looked at the floor. “No.” Clarkes grip on his hand tightened. “I mean, yes, she’s okay, but…” He shook his head, as if he could shake away his tears before they escaped. It didn’t work. “She got arrested.”

Wells rubbed his face, letting out a deep breath. “For what?”

“Stealing and assault.”

“Okay.” Clarke nodded slowly, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. “Okay, well, that’s not as bad as it could be, Bell-”

“No, you don’t understand.” The tears streamed freely. “They’re going to take her away from me.”

“Away from you?”

He gasped in a breath, and Clarke was shocked at how quickly his crying had escalated to sobs. “She’s been-huh-allowed to-huh-live in the-huh-city-huh-as long as-huh-she stays-huh-out of trouble-huh-but-huh-now they-huh-want to-huh-send her to-huh-a group home-huh-with zero-huh- visitation.”

Clarke looked at Wells in question. He shrugged, not understanding anything Bellamy was saying.

It was so strange for him, to see his stoic roommate in tears.

It made him want to cry. Or hit something.

“Bellamy, look at me.” She held his face in her hands. “I want to help you, you hear me? I want to help you fix this, but I don’t understand what’s going on right now. So, I need you to calm down and explain it to me, okay?”

His teeth chattered against each other and he tried to hold her gaze through the tears. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She shifted her hand and ran her fingers through his curls, pushing them out of his eyes for a moment, before standing up and walking to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water, and stood there, staring at it for a good thirty seconds, hearing Wells’ soft whispers to Bellamy, before walking back into the room.

Wells had moved from the arm chair to sit beside Bellamy, who had stopped crying and was letting her friend trace patterns over his fingers and on his palm. She took the spot on the other side and pushed the glass into the hand not occupied by Wells.

“Drink this. All of it. And when you’re ready, if you want to, tell us what’s going on.”

He took a small sip of the water, pushed the glass onto the coffee table and leaned back, his hand still gripped by Wells.

“Octavia and I…it’s just the two of us. There’s no one else. Our family, it’s just us.” His chest heaved. “And…when our mum died…I tried to get custody of her, but I was only eighteen and I was in the police academy and…and something happened and they didn’t give me custody and she was put in a foster home but she’s been…acting up and they warned her that if anything else happened…” The tears built up in his eyes again, and though he desperately tried to blink them away, one escaped from beneath his lashes. “If anything else happened, she’d be moved to a girls correctional group home, with no visitation allowances. Until her behaviour changes, or she turns eighteen.” He sniffed with a miserable lift in his shoulders. “And I just…I can’t let that happen. She already blames me for not getting custody of her, and she hates her foster family, and if I let her be taken away, or sent to juvie, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”

His bottom lip began to wobble again, and the sight of it almost had Clarke in tears. Wells was shaking his head solemnly, still drawing soft comforts on Bellamys skin.

“Shit.” Was all Clarke could bring herself to say. She knew that if she tried to comfort him, she would break down right alongside him. She knew exactly how it felt to lose family without losing them.

“Wait, so tell us, is she being charged, or has she just been arrested?” Wells asked.

“I don’t know.” Bellamy reached up and dragged his hand roughly down his face. “She called me and told me, I went down to the station and they wouldn’t tell me anything, wouldn’t let me see her, and because I’m not her legal guardian,” His throat bobbed, “They didn’t have to.”

Clarke chewed on her lip. There only way to describe the situation was messy. Too many things piled on top of themselves to create an impossible to fix situation.

Or maybe not impossible.

Just not possible to fix without a serious amount of discomfort and awkward conversations.

She shook her head to herself, trying to banish the thought before it could fully form, but something inside her screamed to stop being so selfish. It wasn’t about her, and this might be the only way out. “I have an idea.”

Both the boys looked at her.

“About what?” Bellamy asked, his voice sounding strained. She wondered how long he’d sat on the floor crying before she got home.

“About how to fix this.” She pulled out her phone, and before either of them could ask who she was calling, she’d dialled the number and had her phone to her ear. They both watched, questions on their faces. “Hello? Yes, hi, this is Clarke Griffin…Yes. Yes, I am.” Her eyes shut for a moment, as if preparing for what had to happen next, and both of the boys watched her in confusion. Neither were prepared for the next words that came out of her mouth. “Hi Mum.”


	15. Arkadia Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small disclaimer: I really really really like Abby in the show, but I needed someone to be a bad guy. Soz to any Abby stans.

“Hi Mum.”

Wells all but jumped out of his seat.

“What are you doing?” He hissed. She held her hand up, gesturing for him to be quiet.

“I know you’re a busy person.” She said into the phone. “Yes, I know you’re at work right now. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Bellamy looked at Wells, whose lip was upturned in something similar to disgust.

“Yes, it’s been a while…no, I’m not going to apologise for that.” The hand holding the phone curled around it into a fist. “I didn’t call so you could give me a lecture…I’m not being rude, I’m being direct…Because I need a favour. An urgent one.”

Her lips pressed into a line and she stared at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with either of the boys. “Yes, urgent as in right now…No, I’m not in any danger. No. Mum, it’s still urgent.”

Wells could tell exactly what Abby was saying could almost hear her voice in his ear, in that stern, resounding way she always spoke.

“It’s about a friend of mine…Yes…” Her jaw clenched tightly, and there was a considerable silence from her until, “Mum, please. Please, it’s important.”

Bellamy wanted to throw up. She was practically begging for his sake, his sisters sake, and he was sitting here, letting her.

“Yes, I know how much it will inconvenience you…Yes. I can be there in twenty minutes…Yes. Okay…See you soon.”

She took one deep breath in and shut her eyes to stop the hot tears of anger that were threatening to spill.

The phone went flying across the room, and hit the far wall with a resounding thud.

Wells and Bellamy, still sitting on the couch holding hands, flinched, but were not surprised.

Her chest heaved and she kept her eyes closed until she could feel the rage tampering off. This isn’t about you, she reminded herself.

Bellamy was staring up at her when she finally let herself look, and his expression was so familiar, she could taste it on her tongue; guilt.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He murmured.

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t Clarke.”

“Yes, I did!” She all but shouted at him, but he could tell she was trying to convince herself, more than him. “Yes, I did, and now we have to go and get in my car because she’s cancelling all her classes and appointments for the rest of the day so that she can help out, okay? So, let’s go.”

Her hands shook as she stomped towards her phone, pulling her car keys out of her pocket as she went.

Bellamy stood tentatively, his shoulders hunched miserably. Wells remained where he was.

“I…” He began. Clarke cut him off.

“You don’t have to come.” She gave him the closest thing to a smile she could muster in that moment. “In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t. Might cause some other problems, and honestly, I just wanna get in and out of there as fast as possible. Plus, someone has to eat that food.”

He nodded, thankful for the excuse to avoid going back to that place, and settled back, leaning heavily into the couch.

Clarke nodded to Bellamy and together, they exited the apartment.

The drive was quiet, and tense, with Clarke sitting just over the speed limit the entire way there. Bellamy couldn’t find the right words to say to her until they drove through a large set of gates and into what looked like a palace estate, and her shoulders tensed so much, that he placed a hand on one of them. “Thank you.”

She glanced at him as they pulled up outside an old brick building that was bigger than anything Bellamy had ever seen and let the corner of her mouth twitch up the tiniest bit. “Whatever happens in there, whatever she says, just remember this is for Octavia’s sake. Don’t show her that you’re offended by the ignorant things she says, because it won’t get us anywhere.”

“Why are you doing this?” He whispered.

She bit down on her lip, before opening the car door. “You deserve it.”

The woman who greeted them at the front door took one look at his ripped jeans and Clarke’s sweatpants and asked if they were in the right place. Clarke rolled her eyes, grabbed Bellamys hand and pulled them both into the building, straight past the woman.

“This way.” She said, which wasn’t necessary, because she held tightly to his hand, guiding him along with her.

He barely had time to marvel at the renovated, but still ancient architecture and furnishings before they reached a set of ridiculously large wooden doors with an iron plaque nailed across the front, declaring that is was the office of Doctor Abigail Griffin, PhD.

A man sat at a desk just before the office doors. “I’m sorry, Dr Griffin has cancelled all her appointments for the day.” He said as they approached. “If you’re a student, please direct questions to her email. If you had an appointment and would like to book a-”

“Zip it.” Clarke said, and didn’t bother to knock as she pushed through the doors.

“Hey!” The man jumped from her seat and followed the into the office. “Dr Griffin, I’m so sorry, but-”

“It’s fine.” The voice that came from behind a ridiculously large computer screen sent shivers down Bellamys spine. That was not a voice you argued with. “You can leave for the day Jackson. We’ll go over appointments tomorrow.”

He straightened a bit, before nodding, turning, and pulling the doors shut behind him.

They stood, hand in hand, in the foyer (Bellamy couldn’t believe he was standing in a private office that had a foyer) until a woman stood from behind the desk at the far end of the room, and looked them both up and down.

Clarke was the first to speak. “New assistant?”

“He was a student of mine, actually. Got the job about six months ago, which you’d know if you’d ever bothered to come and see me. Or if you hadn’t quit in the first place.” Her knuckles rapped on the desk. “Spend all your money on booze, or is an appropriate sense of fashion something else you decided to forget?”

Bellamy felt her fingers tighten around his, both a reaction to her mother, and a reminder to keep his mouth shut.

“I came here for help, not for you to tell me how inappropriate my clothing is.”

Abby’s chin lifted and she moved, walking from around the desk towards them. “Yes, I know. Amazing how you only come to me when you finally need something.”

“It’s not about what I need.” She said tightly, before looking at Bellamy. “He needs your help.”

“Your newest mission? Whatever happened to that harsh girl you were seeing, Alexandra, I believe?”

“Keep Lexa out of this.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

Something on Abby’ face ticked, and Bellamy wasn’t sure if it was relief or annoyance.

“Well then,” She gestured to the large couches on either side of the foyer. “Sit. Talk. And then I’ll decide if I’m willing to overlook your rudeness and find a way to help.”

They sat down, and while Bellamy was completely ready to spill his guts to this woman, to tell her whatever she needed to hear to get them out of there as quickly as possible, Clarke was the one who spoke.

She told her mother the exact story he’d told her, albeit with a lot less tears, and when she got to the end, Abby was still looking at them with the same critically bored expression as before.

“Well, that’s all very sad and I am truly sorry that your sister is beyond control,” She said, watching him with a close eye. He forced his face into the emptiest expression he could. “But I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. I’m a teacher, not a lawyer. And even if I was, it is obviously clear that you do not possess the funds to pay for a lawyer anyway.” She leaned back into the couch, her legs crossing tightly.

“You may not be a lawyer, mother,” Bellamy almost choked at the amount of disdain in that single word, “But you know plenty. Plenty who owe you personal favours, and are more than willing to assist you in whatever way you ask. We both know you could shoot the fucking president and walk away from it, so cut the shit.”

Abby grinned and it was the most terrifying thing Bellamy had ever seen in his life.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that this boy who you’ve dragged in here cannot afford a pair of proper jeans, let alone a lawyer.”

“I’ll be the one paying for the lawyer.” She said firmly, and before he could object, she tightened her grip on his hand again, reminding him to stay quiet. “If you can find us one.”

“Oh, I have one in mind, but I still don’t see a reason why I should use my influence to help either of you in any way. I’m not gaining anything from this, in fact, associating with a boy of his status may even negatively affect my reputation, so cut the shit, dear, and tell me what I get out of this.”

Clarkes shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath in. “I’ll go back to school. Not here, but somewhere. I’ll get my degree, masters and PhD, if you like. Can’t have it become common knowledge that Abby Griffin, PhD, has a daughter that is an uneducated brat.”

Abby’s hand curled into a fist around her silk shirt. “You come back to finish your study here.”

“No.”

“You better not think I’ll let you attend that second-rate college Wells manipulated his father into letting him attend. You come here.”

“Art school in the inner-west.” Clarke rebutted.

“Our sister campus on the other side of the country.” Was Abby’s response.

“Med school.”

Abby’s head titled to the side and Bellamy could see Clarke had won. Med school. She was going to go to fucking med school.

“Well, I’d like to review your applications before you send them out, which will happen by the end of the week,” Not a request, but an order. “And I’ll take you to see a lawyer now. He’ll be very busy, but I assure you, he’ll take your case.” She raised an eyebrow at them both, waiting for something.

“Thank you.” Clarke muttered, standing to her feet.

“Yes, thank you.” Bellamy said, throwing as much formality into the words as he could. “Thank you very much, Mrs Griffin.”

“It’s Dr Griffin.” Abby said sharply, standing as well, before filing out in front of them both.

He moved to follow straight after her, but Clarke held onto him, stopping him until her mother was out the door.

He watched her take a large breath in, hold it for more than a few moments, and then let it out in a long, slow release of all the tension she was holding in her body. “Please, whatever she does, don’t let go of me.” She whispered.

They walked towards the door and he was the one who squeezed her hand this time. “Never.”

They followed the sound of Abby’s heels clacking in the floor, a stark contrast to Bellamys sneakers squeaking every few moments, until they rounded a corner and the building changed and he could tell they’d exited the school section and entered the law firm.

Abby strutted down the halls, her posture unnervingly perfect, with Clarke and Bellamy slouching behind her. He couldn’t help but wonder if this is who Clarke would’ve become, if not for the horrible things that had befallen her.

Befallen her in this building.

Her father was a lawyer. The best lawyer here, Wells had said. He must’ve worked somewhere close, somewhere along this hall. Which meant he’d died somewhere here too.

And he could see it on her face.

Every step they took, her composure disintegrated a little more, and he hated, _hated,_ himself for making her come back here.

Then Abby stopped moving and turned to face them, her hand resting on the door handle to an office, her face that perfect mask.

Clarke froze. “No.”

“Don’t be a child Clarke, you know Marcus is the best there is.”

“I don’t care, I’m not going into that room.”

Bellamys eyes flicked between them both.

Abby rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s up to you.”

He looked closer at the office doors, and saw an iron plaque, identical to the one Abby had on hers, except it read ‘Marcus Kane’ and then just below it, in much smaller script, the words ‘In honour of Jake Griffin’.

This was his office.

Once.

This was where Clarke had watched him die.

Abby’s finger tapped lightly against the door handle, ticking as if an indication of time.

He wanted to scream at this woman, wanted to drag Clarke out of this building, tell her not to bother, it was fine, nothing was worth this, but…Clarke didn’t know that he knew. Didn’t know that Wells had told him all the terrible things she’d suffered. Didn’t know that he knew that that office was no better than a tomb.

And she, in that moment, didn’t need him to know, because she lifted her chin, swallowed, and stormed into the room, past her mother, his hand still gripped tightly in hers.

“Hello Clarke.” If Bellamy were to describe a high-class lawyer, Marcus Kane would’ve fit the description exactly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She nodded tightly, her eyes permanently fixed on the ground.

Abby stepped around the two of them, towards Marcus and placed a soft hand on his arm. “Clarke and her friend…uh, sorry. What was your name again?”

“Bellamy. Bellamy Blake, sir.” He stretched his free hand out for Marcus to shake, which he did, with a barely concealed flinch at the amount of dirt gathered beneath Bellamys fingernails.

“Nice to meet you.”

“As I was saying,” Abby cut in, “Clarke and Bellamy have a request. A rather urgent one, that requires a little more than I am able to provide, unfortunately. I recommended you, and assured them that, as a personal favour to me, you’d be willing to take the case. Immediately.” The words were so careful, little more than a demand, but all the same, Marcus smiled and nodded.

“Of course. Why don’t you sit,” He gestured, much in the same way that Abby had, to the luxurious couches in the foyer of his office, motioning for Abby to sit beside him, “And explain what it is that you need.”

And so, they began again, this time with Bellamy telling most of the story, Clarke intervening only to add certain law-related details that he hadn’t even realised existed.

“Well.” Marcus said when they’d finished. “I’ll start by calling the station and seeing whether she’s being charged, and go from there. Clearly, this is going to take a while, so, Abby,” He turned and looked at Clarkes mother, who was seated on the couch, and smiled, “Would you mind notifying Thelonious that I’ve taken on a new case, and will be returning to my other work once it’s concluded? And I’ll join you for dinner when we’re done here.”

Abby, with no less than a glance at her daughter, smiled back at him, then leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips. “Of course. Call me when you’re on your way.”

Then she stood and swept from the room without looking back at Clarke who had tensed so much, Bellamy was sure her shoulders would become stuck in that hunched position.

“Now, which station is she being held at? I have friends in a few departments, I may be able to get her out of there now.”

“Oh, um, the 90th precinct, in Factory.”

Again, Marcus was less than subtle when his lip curled up, but nevertheless, he pulled out his phone and began the process of getting Bellamy back his sister.


End file.
